Nightmare
by PrincessFerdinand
Summary: After Jacob and Edward help Bella give birth, Jacob wants to kill Renesmee until he imprints. But what if he doesn't imprint? What if Bella really did die? Various POVs.
1. Hateful

The killer that took the so undeserved name of _baby _lifted his head from Rosalie's shoulder and looked at me.

It only fueled my anger to kill it. How could it look at anybody that way, after doing what it had to its mother? Its guiltless eyes stared back at me, the same color as Bella's were. _Had been_. How dare it take her most beautiful feature and wear it so vainly! It had no shame. Sam was right - all along, it had been nothing but an abomination, and he had been the only one whose eyes were not blinded enough to see it.

The past few days came back to me in a wash of memories - the bruises, the ribs, the blood, the removal scene so fresh in my mind. And it could sit there, sucking on more blood, so calmly! And the blonde bloodsucking leech _encouraging _it?

As the hate, stronger than I had ever known it, coursed through my body, the plan formed itself in my mind. The part that had been strategizing with Sam for many years now already knew what I was going to do - it had been planning this since I had first realized how long we all were. It first, the cold-hearted assassin, _Renesmee - _even thinking then name made the hate blaze stronger. A thing like that didn't deserve a name.

Then it would be Rosalie - for encouraging the insanity Bella had started, and also because she would be literally insane with her anger. Though the vengeful part of my mind whispered that maybe I should wait, give her a little time to grieve for It, before killing her. But if I didn't attack her immediately, she would obviously attack me.

That would cause a loud enough noise to send everybody else running. Maybe not Edward, though, if he was still convinced Bella was alive. An earthquake could split the middle of the house clean through and he would still be up there, beating Bella's heart for her, if he thought she might still make it.

That would be the hardest part of the plan, once Rosalie and the thing was dead - it would now be five against one, three of them strong fighters - six if Edward came down. I would probably only have time to take down one. Plus the element of surprise would be gone.

But it wouldn't matter how many I took down - unless I took down them all and could burn the pieces, they would only put themselves back together.

There seemed to be nothing for it - maybe it would be better with his whole family alive - there would be more people to stop him from committing suicide, which meant more time for him to suffer. I knew that in the end, he would succeed. The thought made me glad. Suffering, and then death. Just what he deserved.

I embraced the anger now, pushed it toward my vibrating limbs that would explode any second now. I crouched, my muscles coiling into a spring.

I tore through the air, exploding as I did so. I felt my clothes fly out in shreds - no matter. I wouldn't need them again.

Rosalie heard the explosion and tried to ready herself to meet me, but - even though she was faster than I was, I had the momentum - she was too late, and I had It in my arms.

I prepared to kill it. It would be quick, not because I thought it deserved a quick death, but because I knew I had only moments before Rosalie would be upon me, followed by the rest of the Cullens.

I heard Rosalie scream, a long, loud shriek. It sent chills up my spine, not because it scared me, but it was a scream of utter despair. She saw what I would do, knew that she would be too late. Only a half-second later, the scream choked off, and now I could practically feel the mindless, controlling, lethal fury emanating from her.

The scream would have stopped me, at least for a split second, because it cooled the anger a little, gave me a little insight into how much pain I would soon be causing. It showed me for an instant how heartless, how cruel I was being, how hideous the thoughts I had just been thinking were. I knew the millisecond I was about to hesitate would have been all it took for Rosalie to tear me limb from limb.

As I hesitated, I glanced down into It's beautiful warm eyes, and suddenly my ire was back, stronger than before. Just as the old man's eyes fueled the narrator's desire to kill him in Poe's short story, so would the eyes be the final straw in this child's life.

I tried to kill it then, quickly, but I realized too late that its skin was too hard, not soft and firm like most babies, but granite. This wouldn't have stopped me, but unfortunately, that extra millisecond where I had to readjust my hand would cost me my life.

This conclusion was only further proved as I felt Rosalie's body slam into mine, and I knew I would die. The thing was knocked from my paws, and fell to the ground. Rosalie sent a glance toward it, all while both of us were falling gracefully toward the ground where she would finish me off, and for a moment her hold loosened, as she watched It drop. She would let me go, I realized, to catch the thing, even though it meant she would die. While we were still falling, though, she seemed to realize that It would be fine, and turned her attention back toward me, a feral snarl ripping from her throat.

Her hold, unfortunately, hadn't loosened enough for me to break free, and as I hit the ground, the last thing I saw were her anger-crazed, odious eyes, nearly red with bloodlust, as her head shot forward to slice my throat.

I closed my eyes and waited for death, all the anger suddenly draining away and leaving only cold fear. Would it hurt? Undoubtedly.

Then, still waiting for the blow to come, I was suddenly afraid for my pack as well. I had attacked the Cullens. What would that mean? The treaty was broken now. Would the Cullens attack, or would my choice kill everyone else as much as myself? What had I done? Guilt surged through me, replacing the fear, but I knew it was belated. Nothing could save me now.

All these thoughts took place in a millisecond; still, Rosalie's teeth were at my throat. Then a sudden, urgent voice called out, "Wait," and Rosalie's teeth halted, half a millimeter away.


	2. Confused

**Angsty stuff. Poor Edward.**

The thing started crying, a high, delicate - I hated to use such a light, pretty word in reference to It, but there was really no other word to describe it - wail, and Rosalie's attention was again diverted, just for an instant, but this time, it was enough.

I forced my way out from under her, sending her sprawling, and I was free.

I could now see the person who had spoken - Carlisle. Even though I knew he was a strong pacifist, it still surprised me that he had stopped Rosalie from killing me, the one who had walked away from his dying daughter-in-law and had tried to kill his granddaughter, and everyone else in his family as well.

The Cullens, all except Edward - who had stayed upstairs after all, it appeared - were gathered in a loose semicircle at the far end of the room. Carlisle, Jasper and Emmett were at the front, Jasper and Emmett staring at Carlisle with incredulity, Alice's attention and glare solely focused on me, and Esme's attention on It. Suddenly, she left the others and darted across the room, picking up _Renesmee _and cuddling it, in much the same way as Rosalie had been doing mere seconds ago. The fury ignited once again. I should attack now, when they were moderately unaware.

Jasper made a sudden motion, as if to step forward, and then there was movement, so fast I could barely see it, much less react. In half a millisecond, Emmett was on my furry back, his teeth at my throat and his burly, malodorous arms around my neck, tightening menacingly.

This was a good situation to be in, I thought to myself. Surrounded by six mutinous vampires, caught red-handed trying to kill their sister and niece/granddaughter.

Nobody moved for a moment, except for Rosalie who got up off the floor and went to stand by Carlisle. Besides her and Alice's murderous glares, all the rest of the bloodsuckers' expressions were wary. Finally, Carlisle spoke, his voice echoing in the silence of the room.

"Calm," he pleaded, his eyes flicking from me to Rosalie to the thing, still squalling in Esme's arms. "Let us be calm. There is no need to be hasty."

In the back part of my mind, I noted how he said "let us" instead of "let's", and how it had a more soothing, formal effect.

I narrowed my eyes slightly, and Jasper tensed, reading my emotions. It annoyed me, as it always did, when the bloodsuckers took one more bit of my privacy away, privacy I had already mostly lost from being in the pack.

We waited in silence for an eternity longer. Nobody relaxed.

Finally, Carlisle said, "Now. First things first. Bella is upstairs, yes? Is her condition stable?"

Nobody quite knew the answer, except for me, and as I wasn't in a form that could speak, and as I wasn't sure I'd be able to say the words anyway, I couldn't answer.

There was more movement, from the stairs this time. We all turned to look.

It was Edward, of course, but the moment I saw him, I knew he had finally given up. His body was drooping, his walk unsteady, like he would fall at any time. He halted staggeringly to a stop at the bottom, and didn't move for one agonizing moment.

I had to pity him. There was no other emotion you could feel after watching him struggle down the steps, like an old man. And in that moment, for the second time in my life, it put my emotions in perspective. Again, I was just a small-town kid.

My fear for what was coming, my anger, my hatred toward these monsters standing in front of me, the monster whose sobs were finally quieting in the arms of one of the two decent ones, even my pain at what I had just witnessed, all were nothing compared to his mindless, never-ending agony. My own words came back to me: "_His, mine, yours, what's the difference_?" It had been when I had tried to convince Bella to get rid of the thing that had been killing her.

And now I saw the difference. My pain, Carlisle's, Esme's, any, all of ours combined, was nothing. It was a mud puddle compared to an ocean. I could not imagine to be living in the hell he was so obviously living in now. I shuddered, and Emmett didn't even respond, too caught up in watching his brother suffer.

And then I looked at Jasper, whose face was contorted as he battled with Edward's torture and everyone else's. A force so heavy, I was surprised he didn't crumple under the weight.

Abruptly, I felt hideous for ever wishing this upon anyone. No one, from a mindless assassin to the bane of my existence for the past two years, Edward Cullen, deserved this appalling wash of pain.

I turned my attention back to Edward. His face was downcast, staring at the ground, and I was glad he didn't look up. I didn't want to see his eyes.

"No, Carlisle," he said, softer than a whisper, so soft that I could barely hear it. "Her condition is not stable. She's dead."

And then he collapsed.


	3. Guilty

No one moved for a split second, then Carlisle rushed over and pulled him to his feet. Edward seemed to have lost all control of his body, and his head flopped to the side. I saw his eyes, and it made my stomach clench sickeningly. Not because they were tormented, but because they were _empty_. They were bottomless, a black hole that had and lost. They screamed _I am nothing, I was nothing, I will always be nothing_.

I had seen Edward's pain before, twice, but never like this, never in this magnitude, not even close. I felt suicidal just watching him. A world that could do that to someone was not one I wanted to be in.

I looked away, glancing about the room, at Alice and Rosalie's horrorstruck expressions, Jasper's still contorted, and Esme's, whose attention had finally been diverted from the cause of this, _Renesmee_.

I wanted to be sick. I wanted to be gone. I wanted the last nightmarish week to never have happened, for Bella to have had a happy eternity with her new husband. Anything would have been better than this. Every single person in the pack could have imprinted, every single freaking person in the world could have fallen in love, except for me, and I would have been okay. Just not this.

Just let me get away from here.

"Carlisle," Edward said, his head steadying again, his eyes focusing. "Carlisle." His voice was still deadly, eerily soft, raw, every syllable screaming for help.

"What is it, Edward?" Carlisle asked him, though he must have known. I did.

"Kill me," he said, closing his eyes. "Please, kill me. This…I cannot survive this. This is worse than last time. Last time…I could not survive it then, because it was my fault. I had left her, I had forced her to jump off a cliff. This time…this was what she _wanted_, Carlisle. I gave her what she wanted, and still, she died. And I couldn't save her. I tried, Carlisle! Please, believe me, I tried."

How could anyone doubt he had tried?

"But I couldn't. I killed her again, Carlisle. I - I killed her! My hands, they have her blood on them. I was doing CPR…and - and, I-" Here he choked off. He took a deep breath, and continued his story. "Carlisle, I _crushed her heart with my hands_."

Silence for a moment. Then Edward spoke again, murmuring, eyes still closed. _"'Tis better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all_," he quoted. "But is it better, if you're the one who killed her?" he questioned. Nobody answered. "I don't think so," he continued. "I would rather have never have been born, never have met her, then live for even a second knowing that it was me who caused that celestial angel to leave this earth."

Again, there was silence for a moment. Edward's breathing was labored and heavy, uneven and irregular. But he wasn't done telling us his horrible story, his guilt.

"Carlisle," he said again. And suddenly his eyes were blazing, no longer empty. "Carlisle! _She was alive_! Her heart - it was beating on its own! And I thought - I thought-"he choked off again, then continued with steadfast determination, as if telling us would ease his mind-crushing guilt. "I thought that - one more time - couldn't hurt. And I _pressed too hard_. And I felt - her heart - crush underneath my hands, Carlisle. I felt her ribs splinter into dust, I heard her heart stutter and go silent. And all the while, knowing it was _me_. Me, directly. There's no getting around it. Everything, everything that led up to this, was because of me. I married her - she didn't even want to! I forced her to marry _me_, a monster! Then I gave her what she wanted, I _made love _with her, bruising her so horribly I could barely stand to look at her! Yes, that's right, Carlisle, I could barely stand to look at _my wife_, because I had hurt her. And then I got her pregnant, and I couldn't even get rid of it. I had to watch her suffer, watch _that thing _kick its way through her. And then she dies. Because of me."

He stared around at us all, daring us to object to his blame. All of us did, of course, but I knew I didn't have the courage to contradict him.

Even though I hated him, any fool could see it wasn't his fault. He had done everything he could.

But Edward wasn't quite done. He continued, looking at each of us in turn, before his eyes finally stopped, those horrible, crazed, agonized, _empty eyes._

"_So. Now you've heard my story. And can any of you deny me what I want? Relief from this pain? Though I don't deserve it. I should live forever, roaming the earth, feeling this guilt and grief pressing down on me, smothering every word, every motion, every thought. It would be no less than I deserved. But again, I'm selfish._

"_That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? I'm selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish! But still - please, please, kill me! Just let me escape!" _

_The fire went out of his eyes, and he was empty again, his story told and his final plea made._

_Nobody seemed to know quite what to do. _


	4. Murderous

**I'm sorry for the people that didn't like the last chapter (which was to say, pretty much everybody, I think). That kind of depressed me, because that was my favorite. But then someone pointed out that those most likely to read this story are probably way more Team Jacob-ish, and I'm on the Edward side. So that made me feel better. Also, I'm sorry for those of you who thought that it was too focused on Edward because, contrary to what I originally thought, this chapter is about half of Edward. Sorry.**

His eyes were downcast again, so I couldn't see them. I was glad. I still felt Emmett on my back, but he wasn't necessary now. I was too full of anguish from watching Edward, even though he was my enemy, to be angry, to want to kill.

He was still in Carlisle's arms, and now he let Edward go. He stood on his own.

Esme put It in Rosalie's arms and went to Edward, wrapping her arms tightly around his narrow form, trying to comfort for a pain that was uncomfortable.

I shifted uncomfortably under Emmett, not because he was heavy, but because I wasn't quite sure what I should be doing, and the annoyance was flaring up again at having him on my back.

I thought about trying to communicate that I wanted to switch back to my human form, but I didn't want to - not really. Oftentimes, even when vampires weren't around, I felt more comfortable in my wolf form - more natural. And now, looking at the way Alice and Rosalie were glaring at me, feeling Emmett's arms around my neck - phasing back would be almost impossible.

But being a wolf did have its problems - poor communication, for instance. And Edward wasn't really in the mood to translate. So I would have to be content watching.

"Edward, no," Alice said now, in answer to his plea. "If we killed you, how do you think we would cope? Isn't losing Bella hard enough? And you have a daughter, Edward - you are responsible for her."

"But how can I stand that?" Edward retorted, whispering again. "Looking into her eyes, knowing that Bel-Bella-" he choked on her name "died because of her? Seeing Bel - seeing _her_ eyes, duplicated onto Renesmee's face? And then - were I to survive all those years, assuming I did come to love Renesmee - then she would die, too. And I would be alone again, more alone than I ever was. Would you kill me then?"

It was partly a rhetorical question, because he and everyone else all knew that they could never kill Edward in cold blood. I, on the other hand, was a different matter. The pity I felt towards him told me to do what he wanted, to let him die. _I _wouldn't miss him. But that was not an option. Now, anyway. We would see how things played out, but maybe Edward might get his wish before the day was done.

I suddenly remembered the promise I had made him: _"You won't have to beg long." _I had told him I would kill him if Bella died. Well, she was dead, and no doubt Edward would force me to make good on my promise.

"Edward," said Esme softly, her arms still around him, "We'll all miss Bella terribly, but suicide isn't the answer."

And Edward looked down at her with eyes as cold as snow, and said, "But of course _you_ don't apply to that. You're allowed to jump off a cliff after losing your child, but I'm not "allowed" to kill myself after my _wife_, the center of my universe, dies? And your reaction, were something to happen to Carlisle, would be different? Am I to believe that you would just cope with his death and move on? Or would you just try and kill yourself again, hoping that, this time, no one would be there to save you?" His tone was mockingly bitter and sharp.

"All this hypocrisy makes me sick," he said, talking to everyone now, the pain fading marginally from his eyes as anger flared up. "Like any of you would do something different, were you in my place! Can't you just imagine the pain, the misery, the sense of _emptiness? _And yet you still deny me the one thing I want most?"

Esme took her arms away from him and flinched away from his anger. She stared at the floor, biting her lip, and I could see that she was trying hard to keep the dry sobs from escaping after Edward's attack.

Edward noticed, too, and was repentant. "Esme, I'm sorry. You were just trying to help." He was stiffly formal as the anger receded.

Esme still stood away from him, not quite sure how to respond.

There was a long pause, in which nobody spoke. Suddenly, Rosalie turned away from Edward and looked right at me. "And what about _him_?" she spat through her teeth. "He was going to kill Renesmee!"

Another pause, and then Carlisle said quietly, "So was I, Rose. I wanted to kill her from the very beginning, remember?"

Relief instinctively flowed through me. Carlisle did not want me dead. I knew that that might be enough to keep me alive. He was so influential on the rest of the Cullens.

But then, as the initial relief wore off, fear studded itself in my heart again. Carlisle didn't always decide what would happen. Rosalie, after all, hadn't listened to him. She could go against his wishes no matter what he said, and I could still die. After all, I was fairly sure no one else would stick up for me.

So it surprised me when another quiet voice spoke up. "We can't kill him."

I stared at the one who had spoken, so shocked I wouldn't have believed he had said it if I hadn't seen his lips move.

The one who had spoken was Jasper.

I stared at him with uncontrolled surprise. What possible reason could he have for not wanting me dead?

Rosalie growled, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she glared at Jasper. But he had eyes only for me, and right now they were mildly curious, very urgent, and still agonized from the emotions he was sensing.

Edward looked up sharply at the turn of events, and he said, "Jasper?" so quietly I could barely hear him. His expression was strange; pleading but surprised, soft and curious as he read Jasper's thoughts.

"Thank you," Edward murmured, again deathly quiet, and I grew even more confused. Emmett's hold loosened on my back and I thought about flipping him off me. He wasn't necessary now. I was too confused to have much anger left, and though the hatred for the thing still burned as strong as ever, the heat of the moment was gone and so had the murderous rage.

Edward's head snapped up; his black eyes focused on me and I shivered a little from the intensity.

"Emmett, you can get off Jacob now."

I felt relieved toward Edward, and grateful; I was surprised that he could be himself enough to translate, and grateful that he cared enough to. But then again, his eyes, they had a funny expression on them. Apprehensive, maybe, and then - was that a faint trace of _satisfaction_? No, it couldn't be.

Emmett's weight shifted, but he didn't get off; I could feel his hesitation. On the one hand, he trusted Edward, even in the state he was in now; on the other, I could still leap at either the thing or Rosalie, who, I recalled, was his wife. After a moment more, Emmett's trust in Edward won out and he was off my back and across the room in a second, standing in front of Rosalie.

"Why should he deserve to live?" Rosalie spat, her glare averted from Jasper. Her expression was black, and I figured that she would do whatever it took to make me dead. "He deserts Bella in her hour of need - don't look at me that way, Carlisle, you know he did; was he with Edward, trying to save her, the girl he supposedly _loves?"_ Her words are bitingly sarcastic. "No, he was down here, trying to kill the very person Bella went through all this to save."

"He has to stay alive," Jasper continued, "because he made a deal. He will do what Edward wants. It will be hard on all of us, but it must be done."

The silence that followed was complete and absolute.


	5. Merciful

Horror washed through me. Jasper wanted me to kill _Edward_? He was going to call back the deal I had made with Edward so long ago, when I was still mad as hell about what he had done to her?

Sam's words when I was still part of his pack came back to me. He had told me I wasn't ready to kill the Cullens. Of course I was, I had convinced myself. They were my enemies, not only by tradition but by personal experience. But that didn't matter, I suddenly realized.

How often had I read or watched, through school or otherwise, where this same thing had happened? Where the hero or heroine just couldn't pull the trigger, or tighten the noose, or push the knife in? For the whole book, the whole movie, they had _lived _for the moment, the moment where they could stand above their opponent, spite them, mock their feeble attempts at surviving, and then - with no guilty conscience whatsoever - kill them in cold blood. Then, they inevitably got their chance, whether through luck or skill, and they didn't. Couldn't. They couldn't be responsible for killing a person, a living person with a beating heart and pulsing blood, they couldn't stand over them and watch them squirm, totally helpless, couldn't watch that look of total desolation come into their eyes when the enemy realized they would die.

It seemed like a sick sort of irony that the thing I had wanted most for so long - for Edward to go away - would happen only if I was able to kill him. But then again, my life had seemed so surreal for such a long time that I was probably in a book myself.

Of course, Edward wasn't a human. His heart was not beating, there was no blood in his system. He didn't need to breathe. According to any medical textbook in the world, he was not alive. I didn't need to kill him, he was already dead. All I had to do was dismember a corpse. All I had to do was watch the life leave his eyes, watch them turn cold and blank, instead of the pain that was there now. All I had to do was hear that terrible screeching noise and know that, because of me, he would never again make anyone happy or mad, comfort anybody's grief or understand someone's feelings. He would be gone. And it would be my fault.

I wouldn't. How could I? I was only sixteen. I had never even been outside the state, and now I was suddenly expected to kill someone? No.

I would run away, escape. As Jasper had said only moments ago, _It will be hard on all of us_. They didn't _want _me to kill Edward. They would rather he stayed alive, even if he never healed from his grief, even if he was just a shell of what he once was.

Edward's words from long ago, in defense of Jasper, told me why Jasper had suggested this, if he didn't want it. _Jasper looks at things from a military perspective. He looks at all the options - it's thoroughness, not callousness. _Jasper had weighed the idea of Edward remaining alive, in constant torment, broken for all of eternity, then the idea of granting him his wish, letting him die, leaving the rest of his family in constant grief. Maybe not quite so acute or strong a grief, but grief all the same. They would then have lost not only their daughter/sister, but also their son/brother. And Jasper had come to the conclusion that their pain would be better than his, that his death would be the best thing for all of them. Not easy, not by any means, but easier than dealing with him as he was now. There would then be nothing. No reminders of this short escapade where a human had tried to enter their world. Two years would hardly make a dent on the thousands of years they would undoubtedly spend on the earth. There would be nothing except their exceptionally clear memories and their aching hearts, and the small child that had started it all.

And they expected me to be the bringer of all that pain for so long? Not likely.

And what about me? I would be on this earth for what, a hundred more years or so? They wanted me to walk around with a _murder_ on my conscience, a murder that was the result of a deal I had made when I was sixteen and in a lethal fury? No. No, no, no.

I would walk out. Tell them I had changed my mind. They couldn't argue with me. It wasn't as if they _wanted_ me to do what they were ordering.

And, I was my own person. I didn't have to listen to anyone, do anything I didn't want to do. So, I wouldn't. I wouldn't kill Edward. Someone else could do that if they were so desperate to kill their adopted son or brother. But not me. I would not be responsible.

I didn't want to keep him alive for the same reason I had before - to suffer, to live for thousands of years knowing that he had killed his wife, the center of his universe. I wanted to keep him alive because I didn't want to kill him.

It was selfish, really, to deny him the one thing he wanted most just because I wasn't strong enough to give it to him, but hey, he was my enemy, after all.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts and looked around at the Cullens. They were all staring at me. Jasper's face was gravely somber, still pained as he absorbed all the other emotions. His expression was calm, but you could see in his eyes how troubled he was by the proclamation he had just made.

Carlisle's, Esme's, Rosalie's, Emmett's, and Alice's faces were all stunned. Alice's gaze kept flickering from Jasper to Edward to me and back again.

But it was Edward's face that scared me the most. He was gazing at me, the pain in his eyes dulled. His expression was, no mistaking it, hopeful.

Esme's shock was dissolving as she took in Jasper's meaning, becoming a mask of pain. She was staring at me, horror-struck. It was obvious that it had never crossed her mind that I would say no.

She whimpered softly, and Carlisle put his arm around her. "Isn't there another way?" she whispered, eyes wide and lip trembling.

When Carlisle answered, his voice was weary and a thousand years old with its grief. "No, Esme," he said, his arm tightening, "There isn't."

Esme stared at him in shock. "Carlisle," she breathed, "You…you can't say that! You of all people! - Jacob can't just kill him….my first son-" she cut off abruptly and suddenly turned to me, expression pleading. Her hands came up and extended toward me, begging. "Jacob - please, don't! You don't know how much it would hurt me, hurt all of us!"

Before I could answer, two things happened at once. First, Carlisle began to speak again, and then Edward's eyes focused on me, expression furious. He waited for Carlisle to finish speaking.

"Esme, you know how strong a pacifist I am, but it's not the violence so much as the suffering _because _of the violence that bothers me. I can't stand to see anyone in obvious agony, but with violence always comes pain - grief from the ones who remain behind or the ones who must stay strong for the hurt or killed, physical pain by the one being brutally attacked, or killed - _that's _what bother me the most. You can see how much pain Edward is in-"

"And surely you can see _and _feel how much pain all the rest of us will be in if he dies!" Esme argued hotly. She sounded angry.

I couldn't watch the argument carry out because my eyes were focused on Edward and his glare that made me want to cower and hide behind something.

He interrupted their argument, speaking through his teeth while never taking his eyes off me. "Carlisle, Esme - Jacob doesn't want to do it."

The rest of the Cullens, which was to say Alice, Rosalie, and Emmett - appeared to be in a perpetual state of shock. They were just recovering from the last turn the conversation had taken when another bombshell was dropped on them.

Edward went back to fuming in silence as Jasper turned towards me. "Jacob - you made a deal." He sounded surprised. Of course, I thought bitterly. The perfect bloodsuckers with their perfect morals and their perfect faces had probably never broken a deal made in their life. Well, I wasn't one of them. I could do whatever I wanted.

It surprised me that Jasper actually used my name - just because I thought his name in my head didn't mean that I wouldn't call him a bloodsucker or leech if I was speaking to him directly.

_So what? You can't force me to do anything I don't want to do, _I thought childishly. Edward translated to the rest, eerily calm again.. I figured that he was probably counting on Jasper, who was most likely incredibly loyal, to force me to carry out the deal I had made and now regretted.

I wanted to see him try.

**Review please! (And thanks for all the ones already. They rock!)**


	6. Agonized

**This chapter is dedicated to Sobriquet Queen for her review - all her reviews, actually - but specifically for her most recent one, which came the closest thing to poetry I've ever seen in a review. Also one of the most flattering I've gotten, in my opinion. For those of you too lazy to go look at it and be in awe of its awesomeness, here it is: "Haunted, irate, confused, perfect. Update soon."**

**Thanks so much, Sobriquet Queen! I always look forward to your reviews.**

**I really didn't want to switch POVs in this, but I tried for a long time to write this in Jacob's perspective and it wasn't really working (Plus, I kinda wanted to explore Edward's pain in this). So, this is in Edward's POV. My apologies.**

When I first heard Jacob's petulant, angry thoughts towards me at the very beginning of this whole affair, when he had first made the deal with me, I had no doubt that he would truly kill me were the opportunity to call for it. I had thought for sure that he would have no qualms about killing me, the same way I would have no qualms about dying.

I was wrong on only one account. On the one hand, I was ready - more than ready, _willing _to die. Every pore of my body was screaming for the relief that death would surely bring as they screamed in their fiery agonies. But Jacob _did _have qualms. He wouldn't kill me. And I would stay on this earth and suffer.

Well, that wasn't true. I would find another way. I knew that this time, going to the Volturi would be much harder. Everyone would expect it, and everyone would try to stop me. But I would find a way. They couldn't watch me forever. And Jasper - Jasper, the always-steady, always-there, pillar of calm energy and rational mind - Jasper agreed with me.

The part of my mind that wasn't buried under an ocean of grief was feeling the strongest gratitude I had ever felt. It was partly so intense because I wanted Jasper to feel the depth of it, and partly it was purely instinctual.

What I understood, that everyone else did not, was that Jasper didn't want me to die. Far from it, he would be among the most grief-stricken when I was gone. But he also saw - and felt, more so than the others, which was probably helping influence his decision - how much pain I was in now. He wanted me to be free from this pain. And he was willing to sacrifice his own happiness for it.

How many times had I told Bel - _her - _I was selfish? And not just her, Carlisle and Esme, Alice and Jasper, Rosalie, and even Emmett a few times had all been told how selfish I was. And each and every time they had denied it. I wasn't selfish, they said. I was the supreme example of unselfishness there was. This from Carlisle, who obviously couldn't see himself at all.

But they had to see now, didn't they? How selfish I was being by wanting - and willing to do anything for it - to be dead? It would hurt them all, very, very deeply - Esme especially. And yet, I was still willing for it to happen - praying for it, hoping for it with every fiber of my being.

I was an evil, horrible person. I was a murderer and a monster and I didn't deserve to live, but that wasn't even why I wanted to die.

Please, God, please. I never prayed, but I found myself doing it now - _please _just let me escape. Let me feel nothing. Let me feel absolutely nothing. Just strike me down where I stand, let me die for all these heinous crimes I've committed.

But of course, nothing happened. Carlisle wasn't right. He had never been right. How could you die when you had no soul?

"But Jacob - you made a deal," Jasper said to Jacob, and his anger flared again, clear in his thoughts: _He cant force me to do anything, and I won't. _His eyes met mine, and I could practically feel the anger blistering out of my eyes, but Jacob just met my gaze calmly, coldly, with no mercy whatsoever.

I swore under my breath.

Jasper's thoughts were just as forceful. _If that stupid dog won't do it, I will rip him limb from limb and give his carcass to Caius as a birthday present. _

_So I _said _I would do something_, Jacob thought coldly, glaring at Jasper. _Five words and a handshake is enough to condemn a man as a murderer?_

Figuring this would infuriate Carlisle more than anything else and put him on my side, I translated quickly, my voice as dead as I soon hoped to be.

"_Man_," Rosalie scoffed, speaking for the first time. She glared at Jacob and said three words that almost made me content. Not happy - I would never be happy again - but it did lift me a micrometer away from the rock bottom I was resting at.

"Jasper is right."

All annoyance, all hate for Rosalie that I had been feeling for nearly a month disappeared instantly. _Thank you, Rosalie!_

Two of the six remaining people in the family agreed with me. I was getting closer. I would achieve my goal. I would be at rest soon.

Which brought me to another thought. It was awfully philosophical for the current situation, but it came, unbidden, anyway.

It seemed hard to believe that so much pain could just vanish, like _that_, the second I ceased to exist, but I realized that was what I had been hoping on all this time.

But even a little pain left would be all right. I _deserved _a little pain. Well, more than a little; every decibel of pain I was in was deserved. But that didn't mean I wanted to feel it. What I wanted to feel was _her_, in my arms again.

Then my breath caught in my throat, and anticipation welled up inside me. What if - what if Carlisle was right and I _did _see Bella again? What if she could be with me again in just moments, hours, days? I could survive if I knew that I would see her again sooner or later.

It didn't occur to me that moments ago I had just rejected everything Carlisle stood for, and that if I had had a chance before it was surely gone now. All I could feel was _hope _- hope, bubbling up and burning away the pain like it was acid. It didn't all diminish, of course, but it was tolerable, now - for a while, that was. It was most easily comparable with the pain I had been in during the entire time I was away from Bella after her birthday party. Not enjoyable, not even tolerable, not really - but endurable. I could endure this for a while. So long as I could still hope, I could be patient.

Patient enough to say goodbye to Bella properly.

It suddenly occurred to me what I had done - left her body rotting away upstairs, blood still fresh. I hadn't even covered her or closed her eyes, I had been in such a haze of pain. But now, what I must do seemed obvious - I had to have a funeral.

We had to have a funeral for her before I departed this life. I couldn't just leave her there. I would convince the others to put this discussion on hold and we would hold the funeral.

A moment later, I realized that the funeral needed to be held while I was still alive for more reasons than that I wanted to be there. I would not leave my family to deal with making up excuses for her death - I would have to personally tell Charlie. Myself. I wasn't that selfish as to hand the job off to Carlisle or someone else.

We - Jasper, Rosalie, and myself - would force Jacob to attend. We would make sure he didn't escape. And when the funeral was over, we would force him to do what he had promised, and I would be at rest.

It was a good plan.

I spoke slowly, choosing my words as I went in reaction to the other's thoughts.

"I think that maybe it would be…best… if we put this conversation off a bit -" I started, then hearing the utter surprise in Jasper's thoughts, hurried on quickly. "I think it would be…most prudent…if we held Bel-her funeral while I was still here -" How calmly I spoke about my own death! And I kicked myself for stumbling over her name. "I will not leave you with a web of lies to spin up carry out. I will take care of all of it. And then, after that, Jacob, you and I, we have some business to take of," I said, smiling grimly at Jacob before turning my thoughts to the rest of the family.

Jacob was livid.

**So…what did you think of Edward's perspective? That was actually a lot easier than writing in Jacob's…I think I connect to Edward better :-)Next chapter will probably be in Edward's again, telling Charlie about what happened, unless I get millions of reviews that say "YOU SUCK WRITING EDWARD!!!!! YOU BETTER WRITE MORE JACOB OR ELSE!!!!!!!" Anonymous reviews are turned on, I don't care if you flame. Just review!**

**Goal for this chapter: 7 more, putting me at 25. You can do it!**


	7. Angry

**Sorry it's been so long. The end of the semester and all that stuff. **

**This is the next day, still Edward's POV. Him telling Charlie. Warning: Dialogue is not my strongest skill, so no guarantees this chapter is any good. Sorry.**

I drove my Volvo down the driveway, glad that I could drive without thinking because I was too focused on trying to keep the memories out of my head. I should not have taken this car. She had been in it too many times, there were too many ways I could remember, and that was something to be avoided at all costs.

I also had to concentrate on my story for Charlie. Bella had died of the mysterious disease she had contracted. She had been "on the mend", as she had insisted on telling Charlie, but she had had a serious relapse and it had killed her.

It seemed surreal that the very thing I had been afraid of - her dying - when she presented and carried out her idea of keeping Charlie in the loop was happening now. Sure, at the time I had been positive I would lose her, but I had grown steadily more optimistic as the pregnancy progressed. Of course, all those hopes were shattered now.

The road was flashing by too quickly. There would be people driving today - a warm, yet cloudy Saturday would not leave the roads deserted. I slowly took my foot off the gas pedal, every motion a struggle.

I pulled into Charlie's driveway.

I could hear the TV blaring inside, watching a baseball game, but Charlie's mind wasn't on it. _Why hasn't Bella called yet? She's called before this every day..._

I felt nauseous at the news I had to deliver - a strange sensation that I hadn't felt in a while. Was it possible for a vampire to be sick to their stomach? What would happen? Would they throw up blood? That was a rather disgusting thought.

Timidly, I knocked on the door.

_Was that a knock? _Charlie wondered_, _but then one of the teams in the game hit a line drive. _Oh, well. If there's someone there, they'll knock again._

Charlie seemed so nonchalant. I hated knowing that I would be giving him the worst news of his life in just a few short moments. The guilt surged up again, fresh and stronger than before. I suddenly had a nasty suspicion Jasper had been helping with that before. Another wave of gratitude toward him flared up.

Only one emotion had ever felt this strong before, and that had been love. It was odd to know that other emotions could possibly feel as strong as that.

I took a deep breath and knocked again.

Charlie heard it again and heaved himself up off the couch. He padded toward the door heavily.

"Edward?" he asked incredulously. _What the _hell _is he doing here? And where's Bella?_

"Er...hello, Charlie," I began uncertainly, unsure how to tell him. "There's something I need to talk to you about...could we maybe move this discussion inside?"

"Where's Bella?" he demanded as he held the door wider. I slipped through and had to concentrate on moving at a human speed as I led him to the living room. I ignored his question.

It sent a pang through my chest that Bella's scent was no longer here - it had been nearly a month and a half since she had last been here. Would I never be able to smell her delicious scent again?

I sat fluidly in the chair and Charlie took the couch? "Where's Bella?" he asked again, impatient.

"Carlisle is a very, very good doctor," I started. There would be no way I would let Charlie blame Carlisle for this. "Please understand that what happened was through no fault of his - he did everything he could..." _And in the end_, I thought to myself, _it was me who failed her_.

_What happened? He doesn't mean? Oh no...no, no, no...._

He had it figured out. I could tell even if I couldn't read his thoughts I could tell by the way his face paled, his breathing and heartbeat sped, his hands clenched in his lap.

"She's - _dead_-" he choked out.

I had to admit, it was harder hearing it from someone else. Harder than thinking it, harder than saying it myself. Hearing someone else say it made it more real, and suddenly I was just as affected by the words as Charlie was. My eyes gave away everything.

"I'm sorry," I said to Charlie fervently. "More sorry than you can possibly imagine, can possibly comprehend. She was on the mend, as she told you, but she suffered a very severe relapse that she didn't recover from. Her body was too worn out to fight off the virus, whatever it was, a second time. But you must believe me when I say that Carlisle could do nothing. He didn't know what he was fighting against, knew next to nothing about the disease, he could do nothing to fight against it because he didn't know what it was. Please, whatever you do, don't blame Carlisle."

"Why - would I - blame _Carlisle_?" Charlie sputtered. The initial shock was over and the grief hadn't set in yet. All that was left was anger. Anger at me. Well-deserved anger, of course. "Why would I blame _Carlisle_?" he asked again, rhetorically. "When I can blame _you_?"

"Believe me, Charlie," I pleaded, "I hate myself more than you do. I take full blame for this, and please realize that I am in as much pain as you are."

_As much pain?! - and there he sits, perfectly calm and collected, just like always, when he caused the death of _my _daughter, and he wants me to believe a _single _word he says_? _I _don't _think so..._

"You have done _nothing _but lie, do you realize that? You have never told me the truth, never told her the truth. You have done nothing good for her. And she's tried to get away from you, you realize that? She's tried, but you always kept coming back with your damn excuses and she kept on listening to you. She broke up with you, after your first date, do you remember that? She hated you so much in that moment she went to _Phoenix_, and yet you followed her. And then what happened? She _falls out a window _and breaks her _leg_. And then she takes you back! And then - just three months later - she comes home from her own _birthday party _with _stitches _in her arm. Three days later, you set her into one of the severest depressions I have _ever seen_. Seven months later, no word, no letter, no phone call, and she disappears for three days and comes back with _you. _I tell her to stay away from you, but she won't listen to me. Then, less than a month later, you _propose_. Propose! You're both eighteen and you've been dating for what? A year and a half, minus seven months? And then for her honeymoon you had to take her to some godforsaken island is South freaking America. Vermont too good for you? Something wrong with Disneyworld? Take her to Europe if you want to get really exotic! Show off your money if you must, but no, you take her to one of the most disease-infested places in the world. And then she dies. Every thing, every _single _bad thing that has happened to her in the last two years is because of _you_. I hope you're happy with yourself." **(Wow...that was a long paragraph...:-))**

Every harsh thought that Charlie had thought towards me in the last two years is coming out now.

And the worst part is, there's nothing I can say. No way I can defend myself. Because every thought is true, every word true. How many times had I thought those very same things, agonized for hours over them? But I was never strong enough, and now Bella, weak, delicate, Bella, had paid the price.

_I hope you're happy with yourself_. Yeah, right.

"Charlie," I said, my voice pained. "Every word of that was true, but you need to put your hatred for me aside and focus on the issue at hand. Bel - Bella is de - dead, and we need to give her a funeral. A nice funeral. Don't worry about the cost. We will make it the best funeral - if a funeral can have such a happy word as that placed with it - anyone has ever had, and then I will leave and let you forget me. You'll never see me again, I can promise you that."

Charlie's eyes tightened and his fist twitched.

"I will work with you to plan a funeral," he said after a long moment, his thoughts chaos. "But only because of her. I will tolerate being in the presence of the one who killed my daughter for her. But then I want you gone. _Gone_. I never want to see you within twenty miles of me again, or I swear to God I will give you the severest restraining order possible. Do you understand me?"

"I do."

"All right, then. Just so that's understood."

And the hardest part was over. Well, not the hardest part. There was no part that was harder than the others. They were all hard, past the point of endurance. Every moment was so difficult to survive that it seemed like each one couldn't possibly be harder. But then it was.

The funeral could not come fast enough.

**Hmm...so what do you think? **

**Goal: 7 reviews!**


	8. Hurt

**This chapter's a flashback. It happens directly after the conversation in Ch. 6. **

**Thanks again to the most awesomest awesome beta EVER, TheSingingGirl! Hooray! (Confetti comes down from the ceiling). Now, no more happiness! On with the angst!**

One of the hardest things that I had ever done, vampire or otherwise, was walk back up the stairs to Carlisle's study to clean Bella's body. Harder than saying goodbye to her that day in the forest, harder than watching the bruises form on her body the night after our wedding, harder than seeing her lying helpless before James. All those things I had thought unbearable at the time...they were all nothing, nothing compared to walking back up the stairs, knowing Bella lay on the operating table, limp and lifeless.

Every step was a struggle. Carlisle's hand was firm on my elbow, giving me much-needed support, and the rest of the family sent me their mental support through their thoughts. Jasper was trying, trying as hard as he possibly could do lighten the agony I was going through - as much for himself as for me. Alice's hand was soothing on his arm as his muscles tightened from the onslaught of pain, not just from me but from everybody in the room, himself included.

I tried to focus on each step by itself, not the stairs as a whole. _Just one more step. Good. Now one more..._It was harder to force myself to go through each motion than it might have been because I knew what was at the end, waiting for me. Not a reward for my work, but a punishment. A terrible punishment.

One I could not escape.

It was so hard knowing that it couldn't protect her anymore. That had been my goal in life for the past year and a half: protecting Isabella Swan. And it seemed like I had won - like all those forces that had been conspiring against her had finally been laid to rest - or, more truthfully, been killed violently. But none of it had mattered, because I couldn't save her from myself.

And now I had to face the consequences.

It seemed unforgivable now, what I had done earlier, how I had left Bella dirty, soiled and bleeding over the table. I hadn't even closed her eyes before going down the stairs. It was repulsive and now I would pay the price. I would have to go back and do it now, now that my wounds had been festering for a while, now that the numbness had worn off, now that the pain had grown so unbearable that it could have been its own separate entity.

So it was now that Carlisle and I were going back to his study to clean her body and get it ready for the funeral. We would set the date for a few days from now - I would go to see Charlie tomorrow and hammer out the details, but I knew I couldn't wait

We couldn't send her to a funeral home, of course - they couldn't see the violent way that she had died. So we would have to do it all ourselves.

Again, I was eternally grateful for Carlisle's hand on my elbow, guiding me down the hallway. I knew that if it wasn't for him I would never have been able to make it this far. Each step I took was slow and deliberate - I knew we were making our way slower than a human would walk.

My mind was too multi-layered to focus on just walking - I had to do something else too or I would begin to remember the memories I was so desperate to forget. So I worked on my breathing, too. _In. Out. In. Out_.

Bella's scent filled my nose, overwhelmingly painful. Not in a way that made me thirsty, but in a way that burnt so much more because it was so heavy with memories. The thirst was a pinprick compared to stabbing sword. There was really no comparison.

When we came to the door I stopped for a long moment, trying to collect myself enough to go inside. Carlisle stopped too, patient as always. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders protectively.

"It's all right, son. Take as long as you need," Carlisle murmured. _You don't have to do this if it would be...too painful. I'm quite capable of doing it myself._

I had committed many sins in my life, but they would not include waiting outside while my father cleaned the body of my dead wife.

"No...No, I'm fine." This was such a gross overstatement that it was almost funny in a sick kind of way. It reminded me of _her_, on the morning after our wedding night. Could nothing fail to remind me? "I'm ready. Let's go."

_Are you sure?_

"Yes," I said, as forcefully as I could manage. To prove it to him, I tried to smile a little, but it came out more as a grimace. Carlisle's expression, if possible, became more concerned than before, but he didn't object as I stepped forward and took one smooth stride into the room.

The scent was stronger here, of course, with the fresh blood pooling only a few feet away, but, as I had once told Bel - her, _I've never been in better control of that side of my nature than right now_. Or something like that. I was too exhausted to go picking through my perfect memories. Besides, it would be so agonizingly painful. Although it would probably take my mind off the task at hand...

Bella's body, lying helpless on the table, was the most disturbing sight I had ever seen. Worse than the many victims I had left drained in my days away from Carlisle.

There had been once, during that time, when I had been too late. I heard the man's thoughts when he was almost done. I had arrived to find the hapless girl broken and bleeding lying on the cold ground as he walked away, drunken and laughing. It was much the way Rosalie had been when Carlisle had found her. The guilty man had, of course, gone missing that very night. I took him away from the girl - no sense scaring her more than she already was - and finished him off. Then I had taken the girl to the hospital, in the hope that they could save her. But she had died.

That was what I had done with Bella. Killed her and staggered off, drunk with pain, leaving Bella broken and bleeding. And now, just like the man, I would die for my actions.

Quietly, Carlisle crossed the room in less than a second and closed Bella's eyes. He took a cloth and began wiping away the blood that was starting to dry on her stomach. Quickly, I followed his lead, wiping her face with the gentlest touch I could possibly manage. The worst part of it all was feeling her skin against my hand, cold and pallid now, so like my own and yet still so soft, and how heavy her head was in my hand as I brushed her hair back from her face.

We did it as quickly as possible but it still seemed to take forever before we were done. Carlisle wrapped her stomach in a bandage in case it bled any more and then we dressed her in what she would be buried in. It didn't really matter, as it would be a closed-casket funeral, but she ended up in a blue silk skirt-and-shirt ensemble, something Alice had already picked out for when, as she had been sure they would, things had all gone well.

When we finished, I took a step back to look at her once more. Somehow, I knew this would be the last time I would lay eyes on her.

She looked so peaceful and beautiful, even in death, that it touched my heart, made its broken remnants stir listlessly, as though they wanted to be in love again. For a split second all I felt was love, but then the crushing, mind-numbing, never-ending agony came back and I had to look away as the dagger that must be protruding from my chest twisted sickeningly. I glanced up at Carlisle, who was hesitating at Bella's feet, unsure of what to do to help. He took one look at my expression, and then he was the length of the table and I was in his arms in a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, Edward," he breathed against my ear. "I'm so, so, sorry. Sorry I couldn't have been here to help, that I can't do anything for you now. We'll all miss her so terribly."

I didn't say anything, using all my self-restraint not to push myself away from him. I didn't want to be embraced, didn't want to be pitied or comforted. I didn't deserve it, nor would it help. It would just make things worse. But I knew it would hurt his feelings if I rejected his fatherly love now, in some of my final days, so I took it.

But it just made me look forward to the funeral all the more.

After a moment or two, he backed away, and his eyes were full of pity. I looked away.

"Let's go," he said, and so I escaped, getting out of that awful room in just half a second. I resisted the urge to look once more at Bella's face before Carlisle softly closed the door - it would only make the next few days more painful.

Isabella Swan, Bella Cullen, my wife, was gone now. She would not be coming back and that was that. I had to accept it.

I couldn't. Couldn't even begin to, any more than Rosalie could stand to hate that child, _Renesmee. _

And all I had to look forward to was telling Charlie that his eighteen-year-old newlywed daughter was dead.

**Now here's where I need your help - what should the next chapter be about? Here's your choices (or you could add one of your own):  
a) Rosalie/Nessie bonding  
b) Edward/Nessie bonding  
c) any other character and Nessie bonding  
OR, if you're tired of all the plotless angst and want something to happen_,  
_d) the funeral (whose POV?)**

**Review and tell me what you think! **


	9. Missed

**Hi, guys! This is by far my favorite chapter so far. It's Rosalie's POV, just a few minutes before the funeral (though they're still at the Cullen's house). Sorry for those of you who voted D in the last chapter :-(.**

**Oh. And I also wanted to say something else. A million of my reviews say something along these lines 'OMB why did you kill Bella??? I say you should bring her back to life!!!!' Guys, Bella is NOT coming back to life. Sorry. For those of you who missed it (even though that's what I've said dozens of times in every chapter since the first one): She. Is. Dead. Edward crushed her heart in his own hands. Her heart stopped beating, and it will NEVER START AGAIN. Ever. She also WILL NOT come back as a vampire.**

**I may not be sure how this story's gonna end, but I do know that Bella coming back to life WILL NOT HAPPEN. **

**Just wanted to clear that up. Happy reading! **

The baby in my arms cooed and touched my face. I sighed, shifting her to my other hip. The picture she was showing me was one I would never get used to.

It had been the first picture she had shown me, moments after I had saved her from that murderer of a dog and stopped her from crying. My small gasp of astonishment had been lost in all the drama that had unfolded in the ensuing conversation, but Esme and I had marveled about the second I had had the chance to tell her.

I felt bad for poor Esme; her feelings for Renesmee were so confused. On the one hand, she loved her, as she had loved her baby so long ago. But on the other, Renesmee _had_ been the cause of Bella's death, and she had loved Bella as her own, too. But Esme had always been practical, and Renesmee's face - though it harbored such resemblance to the daughter she had already lost and the son that she would lose – was the perfect antidote to the grief she was feeling.

The picture Renesmee was showing me now was repetitive to say the least – it had been the first picture she had shown me and virtually the only one since then. It was Bella, her only memory of her, minutes before she died. I was so well-acquainted with the picture that it was almost like I had been there, instead of downstairs, being forcibly restrained by Jasper.

I had regained my senses moments after I was away from the enticing smell of Bella's blood, and I would have made it back up the stairs sooner, but stupidly I had fought against Jasper's arms, trying to break free, and that had only convinced him that I could not go back upstairs.

Renesmee's picture was a throbbing question. Where was this woman that she had come to love so deeply? What had happened to her?

Each time she had asked me, I didn't know how to answer. I would panic, stroke her hand and ignore the question altogether or just pass her off to Esme, who would gladly take her.

This time, though, I turned to Esme and said, "We should probably get her dressed for the funeral."

Renesmee had to go the funeral, there was no question about that, because all of us had to be present – Bella had become our inlaw just a few months ago, after all. How would it look if one of us didn't attend her funeral? So Renesmee couldn't stay home with one of us, even if one of us _had_ wanted not to go. She was to be billed as the newest foster child of Carlisle and Esme's – Bella's eyes and Edward's hair could not be hidden, but they could be denied if anyone would look too closely - which, hopefully they wouldn't. Lots of people had brown eyes and reddish hair.

Esme and I quickly dressed Renesmee in a simple, black, high-collared dress. Her hair was pulled back in an inconspicuous ponytail.

I put on my own black dress and went back down the stairs. The group gathered there looked very macabre. Carlisle, Jasper, and Emmett wore crisp black suits. Jacob was gone, at his own house, readying himself for the funeral. Alice, curled into Jasper's side, wore a black dress that she had purchased only two days before. Mine and Esme's dresses had come from that shopping trip too. She had departed for it just moments after Edward came back from telling Charlie.

To many people, that would seem superfluous, I supposed. To go shopping instead of staying home comforting your brother over his dead wife. But I knew that to Alice, that was just the way she dealt with things. To immerse herself in shopping for a few hours was how she hid from the depressing visions that plagued her. No one could blame her for that.

Edward was standing part from the others, staring out the back window to the river. He, too, was dressed in a black suit, and I realized with horror that it was the same one he had worn to his wedding. The beginning and the end.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had crossed the room and stood behind him, just off his left shoulder.

"Edward?" I asked tentatively.

"Rosalie…" his voice scared me. I hadn't heard him talk much in the last couple of days, but it was so flat, so dead, so devoid of everything that it made me involuntarily shiver. "Please. Take it – Renesmee – away from me. I don't want to see her."

In truth, that was not the reason I had come to him. I came as a comforter, not a messenger. But his words angered me. He should be forced to meet his daughter, should be forced to at least look at her once before he died. That way, he would know that he was making the right choice, would know for certain that there was nothing in this world for him to live for.

"No, Edward. Look at her. Please. Take her in your arms and look right into her face. Tell her that you love her and that you're sorry. She's been asking for her mother, you know that. Answer her questions, Edward. Be a _parent_."

I heard Emmett's voice break through the silence. "Rose…" His tone was disapproving. This only angered me further.

"Emmett! He's going to _die_ without every having looked at his child! Bella-" Edward flinched at her name, "-would not have wanted Edward to go on ignoring his daughter the way he has been. She loves you, Edward. Renesmee loves you. Why aren't you there for her? You don't think she'd feel bad about what had happened if she knew what she'd done? Of course she would! When she learns that she killed her own mother, she'll be just as agonized as you are right now – more so, because she will have been the cause of her father's death, too! Just take her, Edward. Look her in the eyes and then tell me that you will put that burden on your shoulders. You can't not love her, Edward. It'll help, I swear it will," I continued to rant, my tone going softer. "It helped Esme. It'll help you to have something to love. It'll help take the pain away."

This I knew from experience. After my own transformation, I had wandered, grief-stricken, half-crazed with thirst, my mental wounds healing just as well as the physical ones I inflicted on the animals I had hunted. I had not come close to healing until I began to fall in love with Emmett. And then I had felt better. The grief for all I had lost subsided, became muted under this new warm feeling that smothered all the pain like warm sticky syrup falling on top of shards of broken glass.

And I felt sure that Edward would feel similarly if he would just look at Renesmee's face.

Edward turned away from the window to look at me, and his eyes were just as dead as his voice.

"Rosalie, I-"He was in the middle of another denial, I could tell.

"She's right," Esme said unexpectedly, and then she was by Edward's other side, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. "It _will _help, Edward."

Edward took one look at his mother's face and I knew that that would convince more than my words ever could. He turned back to me and said roughly, "Give her to me."

I held out the baby, watching his face warily for any sign of what he might do.

I needn't have worried. He took Renesmee so carefully into his arms that it might have been Bella. He used one finger to softly push back a lock of hair from her face and looked her dead on.

His breath caught and I knew he was looking at her eyes – Bella's eyes. His body shuddered under Esme's hand as it continued to rub methodically.

Was I just imagining it, or were his fingers clenching and unclenching, as though he wanted to crush Renesmee's windpipe? His expression was so unreadable it was making me paranoid, considering all the animosity he had felt toward her earlier.

Edward stood looking at Renesmee for the longest time, and I ached to know what was going through his mind. Was Renesmee helping him or making it worse? I couldn't tell.

And I _did_ want it to help. Edward and I had had our arguments in the past, but I didn't like to see him in so much pain. That was part of the reason I had agreed with Jasper. He would not heal from Bella's death, that much was obvious to see. That was not the goal I was trying to accomplish by having him hold Renesmee.

I recalled a passage from _Gone With the Wind_, a book I had read too man times in too many English classes. The drugs were so scarce during the Civil War that they were used not to help the suffering of the wounded that would heal, but to ease the mortally wounded into death. That was what I was trying to accomplish with Edward and Renesmee.

But was it working? That was the question I needed to know. And Edward showed no sign of answering as he gazed into Renesmee's innocent eyes.

"Edward?" I breathed, soft as a whisper, touching his shoulder with the tip of my finger.

"Yes?" he answered back, just as quietly, and his eyes flicked up to meet mine, startled, as though I had cast him out some reverie. Was it a good reverie or a bad one?

"Are you…okay?" The question was a stupid one. Of course he wasn't okay, but I hoped he could see past the literal, straightforward meaning of my question to what I was really asking.

He didn't answer for a moment, but I noted with worry that his eyes were losing some of their deadness, a faint hollow pain coming back into them. But there was something else there, too. What was it?

"Um…" That word by itself was enough to shock me. Edward never, _never_ used the word _um_. He always knew exactly what word he was looking for. "You know, Rosalie, I'm really not sure."

"Do you love her?" Esme asked from his other side.

"Yes," Edward whispered, and my heart surged. "It's not enough," he added quickly, hearing my thoughts, and my face fell ever so slightly. It was probably stupid, because I had known it wouldn't be enough, but I was disappointed, even though this was good news, fantastic news.

"It's not enough," he repeated, "but she's reminded me of all the reasons I loved her when I couldn't see her, when Bel-Bella was still alive." He still stumbled over her name, but at least he didn't resort to calling Bella _her_ as he had done so many times in the last two days.

"When I could only hear her thoughts," Edward explained, "she seemed to me to be so pure, so loving. She _loved_ Bella." Had he actually said her name aloud without stumbling? It seemed too good to be true. "How could I hate that which loved her? It was an impossibility at the time. But then, she died, and I didn't see how Renesmee could love the one whom she killed. It was stupid of me, I realize now, because how many times had I almost killed Bella? And I would kill anyone who claimed I didn't love her. But now, looking into Renesmee eyes – those gorgeous eyes – I see that she did love, still loves, and will always love Bella. And so I love her," she finished simply. "But I still can't see how I could live. I once compared Bella's place in my life like a shooting star. Renesmee is like Venus in the night sky – bright, brighter than most other things, but still nothing in comparison to Bella's light, her beauty."

"So you want us to raise Renesmee for you?" I challenged. "Tell her that her father killed himself just a few days after she was born?"

"She will understand," Edward said with certainty. "Maybe not when you first tell her, but when she finds someone of her own, if her senses are as passionate as a vampire's, but she will understand what it's like to love someone so much that if they were to die you could no longer live."

"Edward…" I started to say again, but this time Edward cut me off.

"Rosalie, we're going to be late. Let's go." He offered Renesmee back to me.

And I had no choice but to take her and follow the rest of the family to the garage. I went to Emmett's side and he put one arm around my shoulder and pulled me tight against his chest. I went into his embrace willingly.

Edward describing Bella the way he did had only made my own grief toward her more acute. Bella's life, according to Edward for the majority of Bella's pregnancy, had been nothing to me. And that couldn't be farther from the truth. I loved Bella. I had for many months, more than I cared to admit. She was endearing, that was undeniable, and for the longest time it was only her decision that stopped me from reaching out to her and bonding the way Alice had done so easily.

And now she was gone. The pregnancy had bonded us much more quickly than I would have thought possible, but there was still a long way to go until Bella understood that I truly did care for her. Now I would never have the chance to tell her. And suddenly that realization was so crushing that Jasper sent me a sudden sharp glance under the onslaught of emotion suddenly coming from me.

I looked up upon Emmett's face, the way I always did for comfort, and my expression must have been tortured because he put one finger against my cheek and murmured, "It's all right, Rose."

And I believed him. Like I always did. Like I always would.

I love you, Emmett.

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	10. Bereaved

**UPDATE: Just added a bit about the wolves attending the funeral, seeing as how I forgot about them completely the first time around :-).**

**Yayzers! New chapter! Thanks to TheSingingGirl! (I have to get all the exclamation points out of my system now, because this story is so depressing I don't get the chance to use any in there :-(. **

**Anyway, here's the good news: we're FINALLY at the funeral! Wow, it's been a long, drawn-out while :-). Esme POV.**

**Also, the winner of the review contest is: *drum roll* thesharminator! Yay! Because her review made me laugh, short though it was. **

Renesmee was an antidote to the grief.

It had been that way with her since before she was born, ever since it had seemed like the whole world was going to come crashing down around our feet after the magical wedding of her parents.

When we were all drowning in pain, she had been the way I kept my head above water. Of course, back then, she had been an assumed boy, and then she had been an even greater comfort; she would have been a welcome memory of my own little boy from so long ago.

Then during the three feverish, agonizing days before the funeral, she had been the only thing keeping me from choking on the loss of my daughter and the agony of my son.

Every time I looked upon her – the perfect shape of her face, the gorgeous color of her eyes, the perfect tint of her curls – I was comforted, my all-encompassing love for this child overwhelming my grief, if only for a few moments.

Even Carlisle had not given me as much comfort as dear Renesmee – his blank stares and hollow eyes had not comforted so much as worsened what I was feeling; though he had tried to stay strong for me, for Edward, for everyone, even a child could see through his carefully constructed façade. Sometimes I worried that poor little Renesmee would grow up knowing nothing but pain and loss and mourning.

And when even the sight of Renesmee's perfect face - nestled into my shoulder in sleep, or laughing delightedly despite the moody atmosphere around her – did not comfort me, I had only to think of her name, and elation would course through me in such a strong surge that I could not keep a smile off my face. _Renesmee._ She was named after _me._ Bella had named her daughter after _me_! The pride I felt at that, the love I felt towards Bella for doing that, for choosing me as Renesmee's namesake, was such that it could lift me clear out of the depressed circumstances for a few blissful moments of happiness.

Also, I shared the name with Bella's mother. Her birth mother. Was I wrong in assuming that that meant she had accepted me as her second mother? True, I was technically her mother-in-law, but it had to mean something that she put me in the same position as her own, flesh-and-blood mother.

And now, as we watched the greater Forks community file into the church, I held her in my arms and she cooed and gurgled as any baby would, and my face relaxed and I was soothed.

We watched Charlie file in, somber in his black suit, dragging his feet as a man twice his age would, and he glanced around the nearly-full church. He caught sight of us and looked angry for a moment with desperate ire before his face smoothed out and he walked over to us. Up close you could see that really, his expression was not smooth, it was livid as he shot daggers at Edward, with his bloodshot eyes, and underneath that the puffy purple bags protruded painfully and his grief was inscribed in every inch of his desolate face. His whole face was more bereaved and lined than I had ever seen it before; this last month had aged him ten long years, and my silent heart ached for him.

Charlie ignored Edward almost completely, meeting eyes very briefly and nodding infinitesimally before turning to Carlisle and shaking hands. I bristled – couldn't he see that Edward was suffering just as much as himself? How dare he shun a comrade who _understood_?

On the other side of the church, as far from our family as the small space would allow, were the wolves. I knew only three by name - Sam, Seth, and Jacob - though the rest of the pack And Emily Young, Sam's fiancee, was there as well, obviously supporting Jacob. He stood beside his father, face creased in grief, and I felt even worse than I had before knowing that soon, probably in just a few hours, Jacob would be forced into committing murder.

Needless to say, I did not agree with forcing him to kill Edward. I did not agree with Edward's impending death either, of course, though I understood as much as it was possible that it was necessary. However, the unnecessary pain that would be forced upon Jacob could be prevented - and he was only sixteen! It would be so much easier for Edward to locate passing nomads who would most likely be more than willing to murder him than to force Jacob into a deal he obviously regretted having made.

People were still filtering in; the church was full to bursting now – so many people were in mourning. The funeral for my first child, my baby boy, had been near enough solitary – just me, the priest, and two other widows who insisted on "supporting" me. Little did they know that I would be committing suicide just a few moments after the funeral was over. I shuddered delicately, thinking of Edward.

Renee and Phil came in, Renee's eyes tearful already – had she stopped crying once since she had received the news? We had become such good friends during the planning of the wedding. She came over to us, hugged Charlie, Carlisle, Edward – at least _she_ seemed to harbor no ill feelings toward my poor son – and finally turned to me. She caught sight of Renesmee in my arms, and her eyes filled with tears again – remembering Bella as a baby? Or was she just thinking of new life in general, so ironic at a funeral? "Your child?" she mouthed, and I nodded, passed the baby to Carlisle, and took Renee into my arms, squeezing gently.

She put her head on my shoulder and let out a heaving sob. "It's alright," I murmured, patting her back. It was such a blatant lie that it would have been laughable if the atmosphere were not so bleak.

The family got settled. I sat next to Carlisle on one side and Renee on the other; Charlie sat on Renee's other side, with Phil next to him. Rosalie took Renesmee on her lap, sitting with her siblings across the aisle. Edward was as far from the pair as he could be.

The funeral started with a simple hymn, the only singer being the pianist; the rest of the congregation joined in unenthusiastically, though I can hear Edward above all the others.

The pastor, Mr. Weber, begins when the song is over. "Dearly beloved, we gather here today to mourn the passing of a beloved daughter, friend, and wife: Isabella Swan. She saw only eighteen, but still her life touched and bettered the lives of so many grieving here today. If you would all bow your heads in prayer-" he paused as the congregation complies. "Dear Lord, we offer you today the soul of Isabella Swan. We ask and pray that you accept her as one of your own children and show her that rue paradise that is unknowable to us on Earth…"

The prayer was a lengthy one, and I could see some of the humans shifting around uncomfortably as it went on. Edward moved not at all, head bowed over clasped hands, the portrait of a wretched man. Finally, Mr. Weber said, "And now we invite some of Bella's family and selected friends to come and share their thoughts on dear Bella's pure, too-short life."

There was silence in the church for a moment before Angela Weber, the pastor's teenage daughter, stood up. Her black dress shimmered as it fell in folds around her slim body, and her eyes were already filling with tears.

"I want to start with an idea I got from the book _Elsewhere_ by Gabrielle Zevin," she began thickly, struggling to keep the tears from overflowing. "And as Bella was a fellow lover of books, I hope she understands.

"In the book, the main character is able to watch her own funeral, and she doesn't like what she hears – or, for that matter, doesn't hear. So Bella, if you're watching this now, please know that we all miss you more than is bearable, and if this is not to your liking, that we all apologize.

"Bella was my best friend. I only knew her for a year and a half, but she was nice, friendly, understanding – everything I strived to be. When she first came to Forks, I was amazed at how independent she was. She refused to accept anybody's help at finding her way around, without offending anyone in the process, and I admired her for that." Angela laughed fondly, though still melancholy.

"The summer passed, and the fall began. Our friendship only deepend, though it did go over a rough spot…" she broke off, and her eyes flickered to Edward, though so quickly that most of the humans must have missed it. Surprisingly, the look doesn't seem angry, only sad. "And then we were graduating!" Angela continues, "and she says to me, 'Angela, I have good news! Edward and I are getting married!' I was stunned Married at eighteen? But any fool could see how perfect she and Edward were together, and then I thought, 'If Ben had proposed to you, would _you_ have said no?" And I wouldn't have."

I glanced at Ben. He's beaming. He's a good kid, according to Edward.

"So I accepted it, perhaps better than others-" Angela didn't spare a glance to Ben, but I could have sworn her eyes flickered to Jessica Stanley at the words _better than others_. "And I supported her. She went away on her honeymoon, and then I hear from Chief Swan that she's sick. Then I get the call, 'She's dead.' And the grief in that moment is so overwhelming..." She broke off, drew a deep breath, and continued. "But then I thought of Bella, how strong and independent she always was, and I thought, 'I will be like Bella. I will get through this.' And I did.

"To conclude, Bella, I love you. I love that you got married, whatever anyone else thought. I love that you love Edward as much as you do – I use the present tense because I know you still do, wherever you are; your bond was not one to be broken by death - I love how strong you are. And I will never forget you, my best friend in high school. I love you."

There was a reverent silence for a moment, and then Angela continued, "I would like to make an announcement. After the service I will be taking a collection to donate to a campaign dedicated to the research of rare diseases like the one Bella contracted. If you would like to donate, please help us ensure that this tragedy never happens again. Thank you. And Bella, if you're watching this, I miss you so much."

In that moment, I felt so much love for Angela that Jasper sent me a sharp glance, but I didn't care. I hadn't realized that she had been such close friends with Bella, but it didn't matter. I didn't need to be Edward to realize how pure of mind she was. I made a mental note to donate to her cause twice, even if it hadn't been Bella's true cause of death – a reasonable sum now, and then later a large amount anonymously, not through Angela.

More eulogies followed, interspersed by songs. Carlisle went, and my heart broke a little further as he shared our joint feelings on our third daughter, followed by Alice, who seemed so strange and vulnerable, grieving as she was. She described her joy at her best friend becoming her sister-in-law with such tender remembrance that everyone in the church – excepting us Cullens, of course – were in tears by the end. Renee and Charlie both gave heart-wrenching speeches, both with a similar theme of _what if_- what if they hadn't gotten divorced, could they have spent more time with their Bella? Would she have been happier if their marriage had worked out? Jasper's was heartbreaking in a very different way, more subtle, recalling Bella's intelligence, her innate empathy and sympathy for anyone, no matter who they were. Mike Newton went next to last, and he considered himself "Bella's best guy friend at school." I knew for a fact that this was a lie as Edward had once talked to me about how the only humans who sat with Bella, him and Alice at lunch were Ben and Angela, and how he felt guilty for taking Bella from those who could have been her friends. I felt a hot slice of anger toward Mike for lying, when no one would ever know, as he described his and Bella's close rapport. I could understand some of Edward's animosity now for this aggravating boy.

Finally, it was Edward's turn. He rose from his chair, and his face was unreadable, but Jasper stiffened as he passed. I didn't want to know how hard this whole funeral was for him, poor thing. I patted his arm encouragingly as he passed, and he sent me a brief, hollow smile. He walked slowly, dreading his final goodbye, but he could not delay forever.

Eventually, he reached the podium and began to speak.

**Review contest is still on! Reviews do not carry from one chapter to the next, haha :-).**

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**The whole next chapter is Edward's eulogy. There's not gonna be any narrative at all, just to warn you. (That was TheSingingGirl's awesome idea, so kudos to her.)**

**Review! Goal: to get to 90! That's 20! (Hopefully I actually did my math right this time :-)). **


	11. Disconsolate

"This is a hard speech for me to make. For obvious reasons it is hard, but it will also be hard because there is so _much_ I could talk about, and so little space with which to say everything Bella meant to me.

"I could talk about the way her laugh made me feel, how beautiful her face looked when she was sleeping, that dangerous glint in her eyes when she was angry – so many things I noticed, learned about her in the precious few moments we had together.

"Bella and I were together for approximately eleven and a half months, or three hundred and fifty-one days, or 505,080 minutes. Any way you divide it, we were together for a painfully short amount of time, but even that is too much to document in the few short minutes I have to make my final goodbye to my wife, my first and only love.

"Bella's name was the most beautiful sound in my world. 'Say it loud, and there's music playing/ Say it soft, and it's almost like praying.' Every time I was lucky enough to hear her use her own name, or hear someone else talk to her, or, the best of all, to use my own, undeserving lips to produce that sound, those two beautiful, haunting lines from West Side Story always crossed my mind. _Say it soft, and it's almost like praying_. How true that is.

"I was not in love with Bella from the very beginning. In fact, for so long a time I did everything I could to avoid her – a sin which I now find hard to forgive myself for. How dare I waste any second that I could have spent with her trying to get away? But when I did see the light, it was all at once – a sort of reawakening, if you will. And suddenly I realized how foolish I had been, and after that I was never the same. My family, our family, can attest to that.

"I have decided from the start that I will not talk about these last few days with Bella. Not only is it impossible for me to talk about, it is impossible to describe how utterly unbearable it was to watch Bella turn from the strong-willed fighter she always had been to an exhausted girl.

"There were happier moments in our relationship, though – of course there were. Our shared laughs, jokes, kisses, even smiles made the warm love I felt for her surge through me in a surge of magical electricity. I lived for that feeling.

"When she was upset, a dark shroud was cast over my vision and I could not be happy until I saw the beautiful smile play with her lips again.

"Bella was my world, my whole world. That's why I asked her to marry me, and there is nothing that can compare with the feeling I had when she said yes. My heart did cartwheels inside my chest, burning all the while with that golden love that filled my whole being. You can't know the intensity of this feeling until it happens to you.

"Mine and Bella's earliest relationship could probably best described by a passage in Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre. It is, in my opinion, one of the greater works of English literature. Mr. Rochester – _Edward _Rochester, which greater proves the comparison – speaks about his darling Jane, 'It was astonishing to see how quickly a certain pleasant ease tranquilized your manner: snarl as I would, you showed no surprise, fear, annoyance, or displeasure at my moroseness; you watched me, and now and then smiled at me with a simple yet sagacious grace I cannot describe. I was at once content and stimulated with what I saw: I liked what I had seen, and wished to see more. Yet, for a long time, I treated you distantly, and sought your company rarely…I was for a while troubled with a haunting fear that if I handled the flower freely its bloom would fade – the sweet charm of freshness would leave it. I did not then know that it was no transitory blossom, but rather the radiant resemblance of one, cut in an indestructible gem.' As I said before, at the start I avoided Bella, though I cannot deny I was attracted to her even then. Why I tried to ignore what my heart was telling me then, I cannot say, but I am glad it finally managed to win out over my mind, and I am inconsolable my mind was ever stronger.

"I will not talk, either, of that dark, seven-month gap in our relationship – anyone who knew Bella at all knows to what I am referring. Though it was a very real, and, though hard to admit, _necessary_ part of our story – without it, I know that we could not have understood our love for each other to the depth that we did when we were married – I cannot speak of it. The memories are too painful, and eulogies are not for sad, gloomy memories.

"There are so many other moments that I could speak about, but I don't know where to start. It is similar to reading all the books in the library of Congress – a feat so immense that finding the proper place to start is much harder than anything the task incorporates. And I know many of you would be bored if were to describe everything that we went through together. So, I won't speak of any because it's impossible to choose. Were I to begin, I would have to finish, and that would days to recapture for you all.

"I wish that I had begun a diary, so that I could go back now and try and comfort myself with what we once had, what I once felt. But I had believed then that we would survive. The rest of the world could crash down around our ankles, but Bella and I had to still exist together. We could both of us have died, so long as we were together.

"And now she's gone, and I remain, and I realize that Fate is a cruel thing. Obviously I realized that we _could_ be apart, but I always assumed that our lives would turn into one of Bella's favorite English romances, and we would always be together. Fate disagreed with me. He punished me for my naivety, my foolish ignorance of what could happen. And now I'm left wondering if, if I had _realized _that Bella could die in a way that I could not protect her from, she would still be here today. That Fate would have let us be. I prefer to think nothing would be different, because if it were, the guilt of knowing that I could have stopped this but didn't would eat away at my already broken heart and I know, for a fact, that I could not be standing here today. I would be curled up in a corner somewhere, begging to die.

"Bella is my wife. She still is, because the vows we both spoke at our wedding were very specific in saying, _as long as we _both_ shall live_. As I am not yet dead, Bella is still my wife. And I had not yet said goodbye when I wrote this speech.

"I had hoped this could help me say goodbye, help me understand why she was ripped from me so soon after we were joined together. It hasn't. I am nowhere closer to healing from this monstrous, bleeding bullethole that is inside me than I was when I first heard the news, and I'm not sure that I will ever heal at all, though many people will, I know, tell me after I'm finished that time heals all hearts. If that is true, then it will take more time than I have left for this life.

"Though I am nowhere closer to recovering from this grief, I do hope that it helped all of you to further understand Bella, as I knew her. Please just say you do, and then try not to forget this girl that changed my life so completely. I know that I never will."

**Thanks to TheSingingGirl. Please review.**


	12. Stubborn

**Wow, I'm so sorry. I hadn't realized it'd been almost two months since I updated this. But yeah. Basically, this is just a filler. Jacob POV. (It's been a while since I wrote him, hasn't it? Kinda funny, since originally it was gonna be all from Jacob POV.**

As Edward spoke the last words of his eulogy, the room was filled with the sounds of people rummaging in their purses for Kleenex. Even my father, sitting to the left of me just outside the aisle was roughly wiping away tears.

I did not cry. I could not cry.

The pastor, who I knew was the father of one of Bella's closest friends, stood up and closed with a song and another long prayer. I was in a state of shock; I could not focus on the words being said.

The funeral had been my last safeguard. My last chance I had to think of a way to get out of what I would be forced to do. I didn't know what would happen now. But any way I could think of, it would end in me committing a murder.

How could I escape it?

Could I just leave now, skip town and hope that they would not chase after me? Would they seek their revenge on my family, or ignite a war against my pack? They had just reason to. I had attacked one of their own. If I left, there was no telling what they would do in their anger.

I had to stay. That much was certain. It was the only way I could be certain of protecting my pack and my family.

I didn't realize the funeral was really, officially over until I noticed the movement around me. My father tapped my shoulder. His eyes were full of sympathy.

I began to walk out of the church. My dad wheeled himself along at my side. What would I do now? Go back to my house, I guess, pretend there wasn't an unfinished promise I would be forced to attend to. They could contact me if they wanted to. Good luck, when my phone would be off the hook and they couldn't cross into our lands.

As I exited the church, Edward walked to the casket. Closed, of course. He laid both his hands flat across the top, and bowed his head. I could not look away.

He stood there for an immeasurable period of time. The church was nearly empty - only the Cullens remained, unsure whether to go to Edward or let him be - but still I stood where I was, watching him. Finally he straightened up, and his eyes were just as they had been during Bella's pregnancy. Burning. The only difference was that this time, they were burning in an infinitely hotter fire. The inner calm that had sustained him through to the funeral was gone.

He looked around the church, making sure it was empty before staring directly into my eyes.

"Jacob," he said, voice low, "It's time."

_No_, I mouthed. Backing up, I tried to find the exit without turning my back on Edward.

So fast I couldn't see it, Jasper was in front of me. He looked more menacing than I had ever seen him before.

"Jacob."

That was all he said. But his glare told more than words could ever do.

"I don't want to." It was childish, it was pointless - I knew that. Why would they take my opinion into account? Even I had to admit that I had promised Edward. If our positions were reversed, I had to admit I would not let myself get away.

Jasper gave a short, humorless laugh. "Do you think Edward wanted Bella to die? Do you think I want Edward to die? Do you think I want to live with the pain of everyone's grief? Opinions don't matter, Jacob. All that matters is pain and finding antidotes to pain. And knowing when pain is bearable and when it's not."

I couldn't argue with him. Jasper had lived his whole life knowing what everyone else was feeling. He must have learned long ago what was really at the basis of human and non-human instinct.

But I did see an argument I could make using his logic.

"Knowing when pain is unbearable and when it's not," I repeated. "I know that if I kill Edward, though I hate him, it will cause me unbearable pain. I'm sixteen years old, Jasper. Don't you think that committing murder at sixteen won't hurt me for the rest of my life?"

"I murdered at sixteen," Jasper said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"I was in the Confederate Army at sixteen," Jasper said. "Newly enlisted."

"And so you, knowing how it feels, would willingly force that pain upon others?"

"Jacob," Jasper said, pleading now, "you must understand. What you will feel - what I felt - is nothing compared to Edward's pain this very second."

Both of us glanced involuntarily at Edward, still staring at us with those horrible, burning eyes.

I turned back to Jasper.

"What I don't understand," I said coldly, "is why you need _me._ Those Italian vampires, why doesn't he just go to them? That's what he did before."

"The Volturi will not act unless we force their hand. Last time, Edward would have exposed himself to the humans. That was the only reason the Volturi were ready to kill. If we force them to act, it will bring suspicion and wrath down on the rest of the family for centuries to come. The Volturi are already wary towards us - wary, but tolerant. If you force Edward to go to them, you put not only our entire family at risk, but the entire city of Forks and your tribe as well. Caius, one of them, harbors great bitterness against true werewolves. He may decide to bring the Volturi down upon your pack. Is that what you want?"

I stared, openmouthed, at Jasper. Though I knew the situation was complicated, though I knew that there must be more to it than I had been told, I had not known that, should I decide not to kill Edward, I would be endangering so many innocents for so long to come.

"Jasper, I..."

He nodded grimly. "You see now. So you will agree to put Edward out of his misery?"

I bristled; I did not like being told how I felt, though Jasper probably knew better than I did.

"No, I still-"

"You would put the lives of hundreds, thousands of people in danger?" Jasper questioned, eyebrows raised.

"No, but-"

"Then I really don't see what other course of action there is."

"Why can't you do it?" I exploded, teeth gritted against themselves, my eyes narrowed.

Jasper looked surprised, which quickly turned into anger.

"Look, _dog_," he hissed, "I have tried very hard so far to be civil towards you, but my patience is quickly running out. The crux of this all is, you swore to Edward that, should Bella die, you would kill him. You are now refusing."

"You didn't answer my question," I muttered quietly, and Jasper stiffened, then slowly shifted his weight to a crouch.

My eyes narrowed, and I started to call the heat into my limbs, preparing to transform...The anger washed away all reasonable thoughts, the ones that said we were in the middle of a church, that now was not the place to fight...

"Stop!"

The voice was frantic, but it was not who I would have thought it would be.

Edward, not Carlisle, stood just behind Jasper, a placating hand on his shoulder.

"This is not the time or place," he said. "Please, let us go home and discuss this further. You are disturbing her memory."

Neither I nor Jasper could argue with that.

Reluctantly, Jasper stood out of his crouch, sending me a glare so full of hatred that I felt a shiver run down my spine.

He stalked away. Alice rushed to his side, holding his hands and whispering soothing words so low I could not make them out from where I stood. Together, they, along with the rest of the Cullens, exited the church.

Only Edward and I remained.

"To answer your question, Jacob," Edward said mechanically, "The reason Jasper was so adverse to your idea was because he looks upon me as a brother, as I look upon him. He believes that, no matter how the rest of the family will treat him afterwards, they will always harbor hatred towards him for killing one of their own. And he's had enough hatred and bitterness directed towards him. He can't bear anymore."

Edward had switched from the burning man he had been just moments before to a blank, informative machine, just as he had been when Bella had been alive and battling her pregnancy - eerily calm when he could hold it in, and explosively agonized when he could not.

"He believes - _I_ believe - that you are the prime person to give me what I most want. You still hate me enough to subdue some of the guilt you fear you'll feel."

_Why would I want to ruin my life killing you? Why do you think you're worth it?_ I thought bitterly in his direction.

"My family will make sure you are not suspected for the "accident", if that's what you're worried about.

"And I'm _not_ worth it," he said, suddenly fervent, "but I only hope that you will find it in your heart to give me this one last thing. I know you have already given me and Bella more than either of us have deserved, but you must give us this one last thing. You had already accepted the fact that she would be with me forever. Is it really so hard to grant us that wish again? Then you will never see me again, and you can go about your life. I swear no one of my family will ever bother you again."

Pain flared up, putting a dark tint in my vision. Did he have to rub it in? That Bella and I would never be together? He seemed to have forgotten that I too had loved Bella, that I had grieved over her just as much as everyone else. More, actually, because I had said goodbye to her so many more times.

"I'm sorry, Jacob," Edward said, reading my thoughts. He looked sincere, but it could have been a facade just to further his case. "I know Bella's death has hit you hard, just as it did the rest of us. But please, _please_, I ask - no, beg of you to grant me this one final request.

His eyes were so intense that I had to look away.

"Look, Edward, I-"

He nodded in understanding, having already read the tenor of my thoughts and understood.

"Yes, you can have time to think, just as you did when I asked you to give me permission to change her. I don't want to rush you, but please, please remember that every moment you hesitate in one more moment in agony."

I nodded brusquely, and started to walk out of the church. Edward remained. Slowly, he walked back to the closed coffin and stopped, just looking at it.

Outside, most of the crowd had dispersed. Charlie stood talking to Carlisle, and my dad sat by our car, waiting patiently for me to come and help him in.

Esme stood beside Carlisle, and Emmett and Rosalie stood by them. Edward's Volvo sat in the lot as well, with Jasper and Alice standing beside it talking quietly.

I wondered why they hadn't all just taken their own cars - they had plenty, after all - but then I answered it myself a moment later. Carlisle's Mercedes and Edward's Volvo were the only cars they owned that could be driven around the town without causing a stir.

Unfortunately, walking to my dad would involve walking right past where Jasper and Alice stood.

I gritted my teeth and walked past, forcing myself to keep a human pace.

Jasper looked up immediately and glared. "We'll be watching," he muttered. "Don't try and escape." Of course he had overheard Edward's and my conversation.

For all Edward's talk of Jasper not wanting to live in hatred, he seemed to be awfully provocative.

I couldn't help it. My temper flared.

I turned, and immediately Jasper sunk into a crouch again. I stiffened. The parking lot was nearly empty...

Alice jumped in between us. "Stop it, stop it!" she exclaimed, putting a hand on Jasper's chest. Luckily, she didn't try and touch me, because it probably would have sent me involuntarily over the edge.

I didn't relax until Jasper sighed and straightened up once again. I glanced at Alice once, and her glare was cold as ice. I liked Alice. Reluctantly, I straightened and let the anger ebb away.

"Now, Jacob," she said soothingly, "Go home. Think it over. And Jasper," she scolded, "Be nice."

I walked to our car, numbly helped my dad in, and started the engine.

I realized that any further interaction with the Cullens was a fight waiting to happen. Bella had been the only one who truly _wanted_ peaceful interaction between the werewolves and the vampires. Carlisle had welcomed it, embraced it even, but he had been just as happy to let their family go their way, and our pack go ours. Bella had insisted on interaction. Edward had only gone along with it to make her happy, but I knew Jasper and Emmett were only tolerant. They had not wanted it in the first place, just like me and the rest of the pack. With Bella gone, the peace would be much harder to keep.

But we had to do it. For Bella.

And I had some serious thinking to do.

**Not much action, but I was trying to think of how I'm gonna end this. The end is coming, but I don't know how to get there. Suggestions?**

**Also, I'm leaving on vacation today, so no more anything from me till the 27th. Know what would be the coolest thing for me to come back to? A bunch of reviews. Maybe we can get over 100 on this chapter! That would be 11.**


	13. Breakdown

**Wow, I hope you guys are proud of me. I actually updated within a month! Because, I finally figured out an ending! I'll give credit to her at the end, because if I do it now I know some of you will go read the reviews and then everyone will know the ending. Teehee. **

**So without further ado, I give you.... Chapter the Thirteenth! Jasper POV! **

Two weeks had passed since the funeral. Edward called Jacob every day. Intense conversations followed. Tucking himself in a corner, hunching over the phone and begging - flat-out begging - for Jacob to give him what he wanted. Every day. The rest of the family tried to avoid him during these daily conversations. Well, they tried to avoid him the rest of the day too, but when Edward picked up his phone with those burning eyes locking in on the buttons he was pushing, the family cleared out. Fast.

For Jacob, I think the conversations might have scared him a little. Vampires didn't forget. This vampire couldn't forget for even a few seconds what he wanted, what he might have if he could just convince one sixteen-year-old to give him something he had been itching to do for years. Edward could not get it out of his head how close he was to getting what he wanted without putting his family in the Voluturi's bad side for years, millennia maybe.

The only thing that remained in the way was the ever-breaking will of Jacob.

I couldn't help but look back on my last encounter with him with chagrin. I hadn't meant to act so... _aggressive_ towards him. I hadn't meant for Edward to get involved, to defend my actions. I had just wanted to prove my point to Jacob. But he just got under my skin. Arrogant, unable to see the pain my brother was in, blinded by his bias toward Edward personally and vampires generally, I just couldn't talk to him without my anger coloring my vision and tainting my words and actions.

I supposed part of the reason it had escalated to a fight so quickly was because I had let some of my anger leach out to the others near me - namely, Jacob.

So, I hadn't meant for it to get so out of hand. But I knew that it would happen again, just as quickly if we were to meet again. Which severely limited my helping Edward convince him.

On the fifteenth day after the funeral, Edward approached me, just after his daily phone call.

He found me in my bedroom, reading. Of course.

The door was closed. He knocked, softly.

"Come in," I called, thinking it would be Alice. After all, in the fifteen days since the funeral, Edward had started a conversation maybe once. Sometimes, in the first few, we had tried to start a conversation with him, but those attempts were short-lived and nonexistent now. So when Edward ducked through the door it was a shock.

The wave of agonizing, knee-buckling pain that came with him should have tipped me off, though.

"What is it?" I asked him, immediately concerned.

"It's just...Jasper, I don't know how much longer I can handle this. It's been fifteen days already. Jacob is no closer to reaching a decision. The pain gets worse every day. I just keep seeing her on the operating table in Carlisle's study..."

His shoulders hunched and he stared down at the bed he was perched on. Automatically, I try to calm him down, evaporate some of the pain. It doesn't work very well - there's only a minimal difference that I can feel. The pain is like a brick wall. Well, not a brick wall. I could have broken through that. More like something I couldn't stand up against - Alice's will, for instance. Or just so thick that while I pushed it back an inch, it was as long as a football field.

But Edward must have felt something. Maybe he'd been living with it for so long that he could sense every slight change, every turn it took for the better or worse, every time it shifted or roiled on his shoulders like a cloak or low-laying fog.

I was applying such personality to this nonliving thing - Edward's pain - that it was almost amusing. Well, that's what you got when you understood feelings so well they were almost people to you.

Edward smiled dimly, a ghost of a smile. "Thanks, Jasper, but that won't help. It's too strong, even for you."

I frowned; I didn't like to be reminded of what I couldn't do.

"Loathe though I am to go to the Volturi, I don't know what else I can do. I can't live like this for much longer, Jasper. And believe me, I won't try to impress myself on any of the family much longer, especially you. I know how hard it is for you to be around me."

That was true. Even when Edward wasn't near me it was like I was swimming through a pool of molasses. Every motion, every thought was a direct, determined action, designed to cut through the hazy fog of pain surrounding my brain. When he was near me, like now, the molasses in the pool turned to peanut butter and it was all I could do to think, to comprehend, to speak. I could only imagine how Edward had coped for as long as he had.

"Edward..." For a split second I thought of lying, of telling him that his dark moods weren't hurting the family at all. It might even have worked, if I hadn't thought of what I was going to do. But of course, Edward caught the word _lie_.

"Don't, Jasper. I know the truth, no matter how all of you try to hide it. I know that none of you particularly like having me here at the moment. That's why I think I should go to the Volturi."

I wondered why this time, he was exercising so much caution in involving the Volturi. The last time, he hadn't worried about the lasting implications going to them would have.

"Last time...it was so spur-of-the-moment, I never really thought it through. I'd never experienced anything like the pain I felt then. The only thought in my mind was _die._ This time, it's not so all-consuming. Well, it is, but I'm able to think around it. I've had to. How else could I have survived anything leading up to what happened? And so I'm able to think of all of you. What the Volturi will do if I force their hand. It was so close last time. The civilians noticed; the police noticed. Volterra became suspicious, even if they had no idea what was about to happen. And if I do it again, there'll be unrest in the town for centuries to come. It'll become a legend, something old humans will tell their grandchildren. The Volturi will be furious. Who knows how they will react? They might take it out on you. They might decide you should all pay for my crime. I can't risk that. Even if they didn't, you all would live in fear of what they might do.

"Which is why I find it so utterly selfish to go to them. That's why I need Jacob to agree. To protect you all. But he's so _stubborn_!" Edward stood up, paced sharply to the wall. His fist clenched, and for a second I thought he was going to punch through it. _No,_ I willed him silently. _Don't_. I tried to calm him. This time, it worked. Though it was strong, his anger wasn't stronger than any normal vampire emotion.

Edward relaxed his fist. "Thank you, Jasper. But he won't _listen_! I'm nowhere nearer to convincing him now than fifteen days ago! He just keeps saying, _I'll think about it, I'll think about it_. He refuses to give me any definite answer, any clues as to which side he might be leading. Either he's completely divided or lying to me, and without being near him, I can't tell. All I know is I can't wait much longer. Please, Jasper, _tell me what I should do_. I can't live like this."

I let him rant.

_I - I - _I stumbled for words in my mind. It was overwhelming. His emotions,_ my_ emotions, were overwhelming me. I couldn't speak, I couldn't think, I didn't know. _I don't know_, I finally managed to think. _I - talk to Carlisle. Why are you talking to me? I don't know anything about this. Carlisle. Why didn't you go to him?_

I covered my head in my hands, vainly hoping that the physical barrier would prevent the suffering - Edward's and mine - from wrapping around my brain and suffocating it. Where was Alice? I needed Alice.

"Carlisle doesn't want me to die."

_None of us do_.

"He would be biased. He wouldn't try to be, but he would. He would tell me to wait for Jacob, hoping Jacob would take enough time to convince me otherwise. I know this, Jasper. I need you. You know what I want, how I feel. I need _you_ to tell me what to do."

Why was he relying on me? He had never done so before. He had never needed me. It was always Alice, Emmett, Carlisle, who he sought for advice, a laugh, a game. Never me. Never depressed, scholarly Jasper.

But he was coming to me now. And I couldn't help him. Not like I was, anyway. I couldn't think. I had to get out of here. I would help him, or try to. But not now.

_Please, Edward..._ I called out desperately in my mind. I couldn't speak. I pressed my hands harder to my head in vain. I put my head between my knees.

"I'm sorry, Jasper. I'm truly sorry. I'm sorry for causing you this pain."

In a haze, I stumbled up, crossed the room to the door.

_I'll...try to help you, Edward...I promise...I just...need a little...time..._

I flew down the stairs, feeling the pressure in my mind from the emotional overload lessening the farther away I got from Edward. I ran out the door. I heard footsteps behind me. I could tell it was Alice. Alice, Alice...

Finally, I collapsed, falling to my knees fifty yards from the house, head in my hands. Alice knelt beside me. I felt her arms go around me.

Alice.

"Jasper, Jasper, it's all right," she murmured. "Calm down now, Jazzy. It's fine."

Slowly the pain in my head receded. I looked up at Alice. My eyes were tortured. I could see my reflection in Alice's golden eyes.

"I don't know what to do...how to help him..."

I couldn't remember the last time I had felt this helpless, this scatterbrained. I couldn't remember the last time I had had to run from a room in pain because of the emotions of those surrounding me. I was strong. I did not collapse.

I couldn't remember the last time I hadn't been able to help someone, help them get their emotions under control. That's what I was good for. The only thing I was good for.

"Shh, shh, I know. I know. You don't have to. Edward expected too much of you. He shouldn't have gone after you like that."

"Yes, he should have...He thought I could help. But I couldn't. Alice, I just feel so helpless...I don't know what to do...I have to help him decide what to do, but I can't. I can't. I can't even be near him!"

"Come with me, Jasper. Get far enough away so you can't feel anything at all, from any of them. Then you can think. You can talk with me. I'll help you. And then we'll come back, and we'll help Edward. Together. I can help you, Jasper. Project what you can't handle to me. I'm strong. Now come on."

"I can't...Edward..."

I still wasn't thinking straight. I could barely understand Alice. All I was sure of was how she was here, talking to me. Her voice was so soothing...I had never heard such a beautiful sound.

But I knew what she was saying. Sort of. She wanted me to willingly give her some of the pain I was feeling, give it to her to shoulder.

I would never do that.

I let her pull me to my feet, grab my hand and start running. Running through the woods, running away from Edward, away from the pain, so I could think.

So I could help him.

***wipes forehead* Whew, that was intense. For me, anyway. Probably not as much for you guys reading it. Jasper had a breakdown! Poor Jasper. I do like him. Note to self: write more Jasper...**

**Ah, well. Review! We can break 100! I know it!**


	14. Decision

Alice led me away, into the woods. I tried to focus on the smoothness of her hand and the sweetness of her scent, and not of anything else. I didn't think of what I was leaving behind. I did not think of where we were going, where she might be leading me. I shut down my mind, just focusing on Alice in front of me and putting my feet in front of each other.

As we got farther away from the house, it felt like I had been wearing layer upon layer of thick clothes, topped by a heavy winter coat. With each step I took, one more shirt was peeled off. I felt light, freer than I had in weeks.

As layers of pain were peeled away, it left me free to realize other pains - namely, the one in my throat. I found it exceedingly hard to believe that I hadn't hunted since the funeral, but the evidence was in my pitch black eyes, only supported by the dull burning in my throat.

Hunting with Alice had become my only solace the last time the family had been like this, though their depression hadn't been of this intensity, not even close. Why hadn't I taken advantage of this _relief _before now? Then maybe I could have stood up to Edward and this side trip would not have been necessary.

"Alice," I whispered, "Alice, do you think we could go hunting now? It's been so long…"

She turned to look at me, still pulling us along, so she was running backwards. She calculated my expression for a few seconds before nodding and pulling me along even faster.

We ran a long way, miles and miles from the house before Alice stopped and sniffed the air. I did the same, quickly catching the scent of some unfortunate animal and draining it quickly. Beside me, Alice did the same. Within minutes, the burn in my throat was minimal. Alice grabbed my hand again, pulling me toward some unknown destination only she knew.

So intent was I in shutting down my mind until it was safe to reopen it to the world, I did not realize where we were until Alice was wrenching open the door of the building she had brought us to.

"No," I mouthed, so softly I knew Alice could barely hear me even with our enhanced hearing. "Alice, no..."

She ignored me, just tightening her grip on my hand and pulling me through the threshold of Bella and Edward's cottage.

I had no idea what she was thinking. Why she could possibly think this was a good place to bring me to, when I was supposed to be getting away from all the pain.

I had had no hand in the refurbishing of the cottage myself - what did I know of interior decorating? - but it was as though I had, what with the glowing, detailed reports Alice gave me every night. It was charming and cozy, exactly the kind of place Bella would have fallen in love with.

Alice pulled me up the stairs and into the bedroom that would have been the happy couple's. Then she sat me on the bed and climbed onto my lap.

"Now," she said. "Just calm down. Take your time."

I did as she asked, opening my mind once again to my surroundings, letting it come out of the self-imposed shutdown I had forced it into. The pain crashed down upon me like a tidal wave, overwhelming me just as it had before. My hands clenched into fists, my breathing quickened. But it was different, subtly different than before. For one, thought it seemed overwhelming, it was not as bad, not nearly as bad as before. I could handle this pain. It would just take me a minute to force it into the recesses of my mind. It was just my grief and Alice's grief, nothing more. I had handled much worse than this.

Alice put her arms around me, hugging me to her, and pressed her lips against my throat. Just the feeling of her arms around me, of her lips against my skin, was more calming than any words she could speak.

I fought to get my emotions under control, and, slowly but surely, I did. When I was breathing at a normal pace and my fists had unclenched themselves and embraced Alice back, I spoke.

"Why, Alice? Why did you take me here? It's everything that could have happened but never will. There's nothing for me here, nothing for _you _here, nothing but bad memories and what could have been."

"First of all," she said, unfazed by my outburst. "I brought you here because it'll be a damn sight nicer than living on the forest floor for the next few days. Secondly-"

"Hold on a second," I interrupted her, "How long are we going to be here, exactly?"

"I don't know," Alice said calmly, "But I do know I'm not going to let you go rushing back into that house. You need a rest, Jasper. You can't live like that. We can stay as long as you need to, but I'm thinking at least three or four days. But secondly as I was saying, I don't want to wait five hundred or a thousand or however many years it will take us all to be ready to face the memories Edward and Bella left behind. I don't want to live in denial that they ever existed, never mentioning their name or even _thinking_ about them! I want to live in grief, yes, in terrible grief, but acknowledging that they were here and that they existed. And to do that, we can't avoid everything they ever touched or everything that had to do with them."

There was so much about her answer that I didn't expect from her. First, that she expected me to remain here for three or four _days._ I was not a passive man. I could not imagine sitting here in this cottage, taking a _rest_ as Alice called it, while imagining Edward back at the house, trapped inside the agony of his own head and waiting for the advice which I had promised to give him. I could not wait and do nothing while my brother was in such pain.

Alice's way of grieving for Bella and Edward was unexpected, but not unlike her. Of course she wouldn't be able to hide, flinching away from the memories. When had she ever been able to live that way? She always had to do something. She had gone to Forks rather than let Bella's so-called suicide unfold by itself. She had gone to Volterra rather than writing Edward's mistake off as a lost cause, tragic but unchangeable. I knew this tendency of hers was partly to do with the visions she saw; she understood, more than most of us, that there was always a chance to do anything, change anything, even if it seemed impossible, because the future was never set in stone.

And a third thing. She referred to Bella and Edward together. As though they were both dead - or both would die. How could she know Edward's fate? She wouldn't speak of Edward's impending death that way unless it was absolutely final, I was sure of it. She wouldn't give up hope.

"Alice, what have you seen?" I asked her sharply. "Why do you talk about Edward as though all hope is gone? Will he truly die?"

She looked at me sadly for a moment, then shook her head. "No, I can't see anything - yet. But I don't know how he _could_ survive. He won't listen to any reason. Even his own _child_ isn't enough to keep him to this earth. The love of a parent to his child is supposed to be one of the strongest bonds there is, Jasper. If that's not enough to stop Edward from committing suicide, nothing will. I don't see the point of trying to deny it anymore."

I sat, stunned. I had no idea that Alice could be so…so serious. She was always flighty, spur-of-the-moment. She was never one to give up hope. Never. If there was hope to be had - and even if there wasn't - she would not give up her hope.

I wondered if she _had_ seen a vision, one she just wasn't telling me about. she. If she truly had seen Edward's death. Because it was so unlike her to say something was absolutely, for sure going to happen when she hadn't seen it.

However, even if she was hiding from me - which seemed doubtful, because I felt nothing but depressed, hopeless misery emanating from her - nothing I could say would change her mind. She so rarely lied or even kept the truth from me that I knew there was a good, solid reason she would do it now. And I trusted that.

We sat in silence while the sun set. The night turned inky black outside the window, but neither of us moved. I didn't know what Alice was thinking. She was trying to lessen the intensity of her despondency, replace it with calmness. To make it easier for me. To make this "rest" the most relaxing it could be.

I was touched, and helped her. Her emotions were not so strong that I couldn't touch them, like Edward's.. I dissolved her depression in just a few seconds.

She smiled up at me. "Thanks, Jazz," she said, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss against my lips.

***

Time went on. We stayed in the same position - me sitting on the edge of the bed, Alice cradled in my lap - for the rest of that night and most of the way through the next morning.

I had to admit, Alice was right that a break was truly what I needed. It was relieving, not having the gloom follow me around like a constant, heavy raincloud.

I knew that I could not stay here as long as Alice said I had to. I had thought about what Edward had said to me with a clear mind - and it had been incomparably easier than trying to think with Edward in that close of a proximity to me - and I had come to a decision. I knew what I was going to tell him. And I was ready to go back. I just had to convince Alice to let me. I knew she wouldn't give up easily. She had sounded dead serious before when I had asked her. But I would convince her. I had to.

"Alice," I said. We hadn't spoken in hours. I would guess, from the way the sun was at its peak in the sky outside, that it was a little past noon. "Alice, I'm ready to go back now." She had said we could stay as long as I needed to.

She stiffened. "I don't care. We're staying at least another thirty-six hours. I'm not budging on this, Jasper. I won't let you be overwhelmed again."

"It's not fair to Edward."

"Edward can wait. If he can't control his emotions - which I don't _blame_ him for," she added quickly, seeing me about to speak, "then he can't deny that you need to be ready to face him. He caught you off-guard last time. Off-guard, when you were already exhausted. It won't be like that this time."

"It won't. I'm ready, Alice. I know what I'm going to tell him."

She faltered for one half of a second. "What?" she asked, curious despite herself.

"I'm going to tell him to wait for Jacob. That however more agonizing it will be for him to wait for Jacob to be ready, it'll be worse if he goes to the Volturi. He'll hate himself for it."

"He already does," Alice said sadly.

"He'll hate himself more. Even he admitted it's not worth it. What he wants should not cost six more lives. More, because if the Volturi do come for us, I doubt the wolves will make it out alive. And humans will be killed, too."

"But what will he do?" Alice asked desperately. "We can't run from the Volturi!"

"No, we can't," I agreed solemnly. "Edward can't go to them. He'll have to wait for Jacob to make a decision. If the decision is no, which it very well might be, we'll ask other members of the pack to do it...Leah might. And if they refuse…"

This was the final part of my plan. The hardest part. But I knew we _had_ to keep the Volturi out of this. It was like using a flaming stick of dynamite to cook food upon. Sure, it would work for what you intended, but soon enough it would explode in catastrophic ways you couldn't predict. Using the Volturi was just too dangerous, for all of us.

"And if they refuse," I repeated, my voice unintentionally turning into a whisper, "then…then_ I_ will do it for him. But we cannot force the Volturi's hand."

Alice inhaled softly. Her eyes were horrorstruck. She knew I would almost rather die myself then intentionally kill a member of the family Alice had found for us that I couldn't live without anymore.

But - and I knew this was my military side coming out in me once again - it had to be done. And I would do it if I had to.

I could only pray to God that it would not come to that. That either Jacob would agree to Edward's plea, or the pack would.

"Jasper, you can't do that…" Alice said softly, putting her hand on my arm soothingly."

"Yes, I can. And I will, if I must," I said shortly. I was not compromising on this.

She was silent for a long time. So long of a time that the sky began to turn orange again. The silence was loud and awkward. I longed for her approval, though I knew she would not give it.

Finally, as the last remnants of the sun dipped beyond the horizon and the sky was a spectacular orangey-purple, she said, "Jasper…"

I waited patiently.

"Jasper, I think that Edward has the best brother in the world, that you would offer to do that for him. It would tear you apart. But I can't agree to anything that would cause you that much pain…and yet I don't see another way. It's just…it's hard for me to let you do that to yourself.

"But, if it comes down to that, if you end up killing Edward, I'll support your decision. I won't agree with it, of course I won't, but I'll be there for you."

I knew that was the best I could ask from her, and truly, it was more than I expected. A great surgingwave of love for this woman in front of me coursed through me, and I hugged her tight against my chest.

She sniffed once, trying to hold back a tearless sob, and I squeezed her tighter.

"Thank you, Alice. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She didn't reply, pressing her face against my chest.

And that was how we spent the second night.

The third day was long. I argued with Alice, trying to convince her to go back early. She refused. I lay back against the bed, arms behind my head, trying to think of how I would tell Edward what I decided, and mostly just reveling in the sense of freedom I felt. Freedom that would be gone the next morning, when we went back.

The fourth day dawned. Alice looked resigned, as though she knew she had tested my patience to the limit.

"Please, Jasper? Just a day or two longer?" she practically begged when I got up from the bed.

I wondered if she didn't have some ulterior motive, one other than just that I needed a break from the big house.

I looked at her face carefully, sorted through the mess of emotions that were assaulting me. Love. There was always love when Alice looked at me, a fact I could never get over but had no time to dwell on today.

Pain. Grief. Those were expected too, thought not nearly as strong as when we first came. I wondered if she was right and being in this cottage really was helping her to heal, or if just being away from Edward, not having to look at his agonized face, had done it. Either way, I was glad for it. I hated seeing Alice so sad, though I knew there was nothing to do about it, that we were all feeling the same way.

Apprehension I also read in her emotions. For what? Just watching me as I went back into the depressed atmosphere of the house? For Edward's reaction of what I was to offer him in the way of advice? I was nervous about that, too. Obviously, he wouldn't like my decision - any part of it, especially the waiting. Maybe it would comfort him a little, knowing that he had a surefire way out if the wolves continued to be obstinate, but would it only increase his pain to know that it would hurt me to do what I had offered?

The last thing I could sense was a hint of lust, neither unmanageable nor surprising. After all, Alice and I hadn't been _together_ since before Bella's death. Since Bella and Edward had come home from their honeymoon, actually. During the course of Bella's pregnancy, I had worked through the night tracking down legends, and what time I hadn't spent doing that I had spent comforting Alice from her headaches or visiting Bella. After her death, it had seemed vastly inappropriate when Edward was so depressed.

I could feel nothing else from Alice. If there was something else she wanted from me, she was going to have to tell me herself. I wasn't waiting anymore. I had promised Edward.

"No, Alice, I'm going back now," I said firmly to her, and took her hand and led her out the door, out of the house. She sighed audibly behind me, and let go of my hand and put her arm around my waist instead.

And so we walked back to the house together. It was a fast walk by human standards, but even so it took us a while to get there. Neither of us were looking forward toward what was coming.

As we got closer, it felt like I was putting the layers and layers of clothing back on. I focused hard on keeping myself under control. It felt even worse after the three blessed days of freedom.

Edward was standing on the porch when we got there, face impassive. I thought of other things, not of what I was going to tell him.

"I'm sorry we've been so long, Edward," I said apologetically. Alice snorted very softly at my side.

He nodded. "It was completely understandable, Jasper. I'm sorry for coming up on you out of the blue like I did. That was inexcusable. Your reaction was entirely to be expected."

We were quiet for just a tenth of a second before Alice said, "I'm going inside." This, too, surprised me. I would have thought she would insist to stay out with me while I talked to Edward.

I couldn't decide which I would have preferred.

Alice squeezed my waist and ducked inside.

I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and turned to face Edward.

**Much thanks to TheSingingGirl. My apologies for the cliffhanger.**


	15. Gracious

**Well, I updated _kinda_ quickly, didn't I? Oh, never mind, I guess it was three weeks. My desperate apologies. Altho personally, I think it'll be worth the wait. Well, maybe not the entire wait. But two weeks, at least. I actually like it quite a lot.**

I felt absolutely terrible for what I had asked of Jasper.

The second I watched him stumble from the room, thoughts in turmoil, and Alice half-pulling, half-dragging him into the woods, my guilt intensified and I spent the three days he was gone in utter hell.

I was in hell anyway, of course, but the guilt had only intensified everything that much further. I had spent most of it sitting with my knees drawn up to my chin leaning against the wall of my room that was just glass, waiting for him to come back. The only time I moved from that position was for my daily phone call with Jacob and when Esme or Rosalie came in with Renesmee. Within minutes of their departure, Jasper and Alice were both of out of hearing range, but as Alice's mind was flickering out I was almost sure I caught _three days…maybe more…_

So at least I knew a little about their absence.

I did my best to explain to the others about what had happened: I had sought Jasper out, overwhelmed him, Alice took him away for a few days to calm him down, he'd be back soon, as far as I knew…

Rosalie was disgusted with me, but then again, what did I do that didn't insult her these days? She didn't put her disgust into verbal jabs, but I could hear her thoughts perfectly, as she well knew. I couldn't blame her. This was her way of showing that she was not accepting my imminent death; she dealt me no concessions in my last days. _You took advantage of Jasper, Edward, just because _you_ couldn't figure out how _you _would get out of the mess _you_ got yourself into. Don't you know how hard these past few weeks have been on him? Especially with you around. You completely took him off guard with a question that's absolutely none of his business. Why should he have all the answers? Use that puny little brain and figure out a solution that doesn't hurt the rest of us, for once…_

It went on quite a bit longer, but after a certain amount of time, some of her arguments began to repeat themselves, and she began to get bored with mentally berating me and moved on to other things - namely, coddling Renesmee and trying to forget.

I tried not to be with my daughter any more than I had to - how could I look into those eyes without dying that much more inside? - but Rosalie was very persistent in forcing her to get to know me. I, frankly, didn't see the point - what would they tell the child when I was gone? But Rosalie was always bringing her for me to hold. It was true, she was usually asleep when Rosalie put her into my arms, and I did appreciate that gesture - but her dreams were just as bad as her eyes. Mostly, they were filled with Bella, apparently the only memory she had, Bella, bruised, bleeding, and smiling, forcing me to relive those terrible moments again and again and again. These moments I spent watching a sleeping Renesmee's dreams had by far been the worst part of those two weeks since the funeral.

There was another reason I hated holding her. Like I had told Rosalie, I _did_ love Renesmee. She was beautiful, more so in sleep, bright, engaging…a miracle. A miracle that I would never see grow, or develop. One I would never see on her first day of school, or when she graduated. One I would never see married or so in love that her head would spin and she would be unable to focus on anything but that lucky man. I would never feel those pangs of jealousy that came to every father when they saw their daughter with a boy, never feel the nostalgia when she grew up too fast.

But most importantly, I would never feel the overwhelming pain when she died.

We didn't know that she would, of course - we had no idea about anything. But Carlisle had predicted that, if her rate of growth stayed the same, she would be over one hundred in physical age in ten years.

Just ten short years with my daughter, the only thing left of Bella, and then she would be gone for good.

That is, if I were to stay that long. Which I would not. Just ten days more would be a stretch for me.

I didn't want to say it, admit it to myself even, but Renesmee had a strong gravitational pull - stronger than I could ever have anticipated. I found myself almost…reluctant when Esme would come into the room, see my tortured expression and the sleeping baby in my arms and take pity on me, whisking her out of my arms and quietly departing the room.

But that didn't mean I wanted to remain on this earth any longer than was necessary. It just made me…almost sad to leave Renesmee behind. I had no doubt that Rosalie would be the best mother possible, but Renesmee…she needed a father. Every child needed a father.

And I wouldn't be able to provide that to her. Emmett would try, Carlisle would try, but it should have been me. It should have been, but it couldn't.

The thought made me sad, but it only hastened me to leave now, while I still could. I did not want to be caught up in the snare Rosalie was so obviously setting for me. I did not want to love Renesmee so much that I would stay on this earth for her.

I did not want to stay, and yet I loved her.

She wasn't really a baby anymore. She was nearly a toddler. She could walk, she could speak…I knew that I had to go soon. If she had a vampire's perfect memory, it would already be too late, but if she was more human in that aspect, I might be able to save her from the pain of knowing what you've lost and wanting it back. She already recognized me as her father. If luck was with me, she might forget me, my face molding into Jasper and Emmett and Carlisle's.

But then again, she might not, and she might go the rest of her life yearning for the father she barely knew.

It killed me, but I had to do it. I couldn't stay. Bella was waiting for me. And even if she wasn't, she certainly wasn't anywhere on earth, and therefore, I couldn't stay. And when Renesmee died, maybe she would join us, if wherever we were, we were together. But if there was no afterlife, and I never saw Bella again, neither would I see Renesmee, and I could only hope that I would feel nothing.

If I stayed for another ten years, and Renesmee died...I didn't think I could stand that. I knew my love for her would grow only stronger, exponentially stronger, that what I was feeling now, this undeniable attraction for her, was only the entry stage. When she died, not only would I have the burning, sickening pain of Bella's death, which would have grown so strong after ten years festering, but the exploding, fiery pain of Renesmee's. I wasn't sure I would be able to last even a minute, but surely it would be the same as this time? Weeks of deliberating, while all the time I suffered.

Admittedly, I was taking a huge gamble by killing myself. It was a sin, after all, along with the countless other sins I had committed. Perhaps I would be forced to some version of the Greek Tartarus, forced, like Tantalus with his water, to watch Bella, day in and day out, but never be able to touch her, never be able to speak to her. Perhaps I would even be forced to watch her with another man, some sort of hallucination. I knew Bella would never do that in real life. Or perhaps that would be part of the torture? Knowing that she betrayed my trust.

Then again, that was one extreme. The other would be a blissful reunion, eternity forever where death couldn't happen because we had both already died. And maybe, somewhere in there, Renesmee would join us, and then we'd be the happy family Bella had died to give me.

It was everything or nothing - less than nothing, actually - but it was a risk I was willing to take.

The only thing left to decide was what to do and how to do it. It had to be quick, because I knew if we took too long my conversion would be complete and I would not be able to stay away from Renesmee. But yet, I knew I couldn't rush Jasper, and the Volturi, though probably only too happy to provide a pesky Cullen with death, even one so coveted as me, would complicate things unneccessarily. I had to wait for Jasper, but I was in a race against time.

And so when I saw him bounding through the trees with Alice right behind him, I all but ran for the porch.

I was waiting there when he bounded up onto the porch in a single leap. He came to a sudden stop just before, and Alice stopped just in front of him, mentally debating whether to stay or go inside the house. _Would you mind terribly if I stayed, Edward? _she asked me. She wanted to be there for Jasper - apparently he had come to a momentous conclusion - but wanted to give us our privacy.

Slowly, I let my eyes move up and down, telling her that yes, I would mind. It felt odd, reverting back to that method we had used so often in the Forks cafeteria before Bella moved here, but only occasionally since.

Of course she understood, though. She gave a little pout and opened her mouth to speak just as Jasper, totally ignorant of what had just passed between us, said, "I'm sorry we've been so long, Edward." _Certain overprotective _people_ refused to let me leave any earlier than this._

Alice snorted, guessing what Jasper was telling me internally. _Don't listen to him, Edward. Any fool could see he needed a break. Except for you, I guess. And don't think I'm not mad at you for causing his breakdown in the first place…but I'll let that slide for now._

I ignored their banter, focusing instead on Jasper, letting him feel the heavy guilt that had been plaguing me. "It was completely understandable, Jasper. I'm sorry for coming up on you out of the blue like I did. That was inexcusable. Your reaction was entirely to be expected."

He shook off my apology.

The silence was awkward but very brief.

"I'm going inside," Alice announced, and ducked underneath my arm into the house. She sprinted towards the computers at the back wall to work on the fashion programs she'd made, doing everything in her power not to turn around and eavesdrop at the door.

I appreciated that more than she knew.

Jasper took a deep breath. I looked on him with what I hoped was interest.

"Edward…Edward, I think…" he trailed off, looking pained. I tried to be patient, but inside I was reeling. I knew how much lay with this conversation.

"You shouldn't go to the Volturi," he said.

Rosalie, shamelessly listening in from inside the house, thought, _Finally! Maybe you'll listen to Jasper. He's right, and it would be foolish not to realize it._

Carlisle was very respectfully doing his best not to listen, just like Alice was, but Esme and Emmett, though slightly more guiltily, could not help themselves.

"Jasper," I murmured quietly, "If you want this conversation to remain mostly private, I suggest we converse mentally, as much as possible. There's some eavesdropping going on…"

He nodded silently, unsuprised, and continued on inside his head. _You can't go to the Volturi, _he thought seriously. _It would be a foolish option, and you know it. And don't doubt that I will stop you, should you try. I won't _let_ you put so many lives at risk, no matter how impatient for your death you may be._

I thought about this gravely. In truth, I had expected something of his answer, but there was one gaping hole in his logic.

"If you want me to depend on the wolves, then...that is what you are implying, I presume - what if they say no? Where will I turn? Or are you suggesting I shouldn't die if Jacob denies me?"

_No_, Jasper said. _If Jacob decides against it, nobody can force him. We'll ask any of the other wolves to do it. Leah, perhaps, would be more willing. And if they all refuse…well, there was one other idea that I had…_

Here it was, then. The big news I had guessed at.

_If the wolves decline_, Jasper said slowly, carefully choosing each word, _then I will kill you._

Words could not express my feelings for Jasper at that moment.

He clutched at the banister of the porch, his back bowed at the sudden onslaught of emotion. But there was no panic or desperation in his eyes as he forced it at bay. He had been expecting that, and he had been ready.

Love was, as best as Jasper could decipher as I read his analysis back from him, the most prominent emotion. I would agree with that. I loved him more in that moment than I ever had before. What kind of brother would agree to do something like this for me? A greater, braver man than I had ever realized lay inside Jasper.

That, of course, sounded a bit insulting, but really it was a compliment. I didn't think I had ever undestimated Jasper. I had always known his desire to do what was right far surpassed most vampires and humans alike. I had always admired his will of steel, his stoicism when it was required and surprising tenderness when it wasn't, though so often the impassive side of him was mistaken as callousness. His bravery, too, I didn't think I had underestimated, but in that moment I found that all of those things and more existed in Jasper more strongly than I had ever realized. And I loved him, more deeply and on different levels than ever before.

Pain was another dominant emotion, Jasper thought, his face wincing as he took it on. Of course there was. As brothers, his pain was, to an extent, my pain. I knew what killing me would do to him, and it hurt me deeply.

Pride, gratitude, appreciation, even a tinge of jealousy, envy of what he could do for others - I knew I could never be that strong, never be strong enough to purposefully, willingly kill one I loved. All those emotions, and some deeper, strange ones which had no human name, they were all tangled into a heavy, undecipherable knot that Jasper gave up trying to sort out.

"Jasper…Jasper, I don't know what to say. Honestly, I would like to say I could never ask you to do that, but I can, and I will. No, not ask - I beg. Please, I beg of you to put yourself through that for me. It would be the most I could ever ask of you, and of course it would be the last."

_You don't have to beg,_ Jasper thought, _I've already decided. Although, I can't say I look forward to it. Killing my own brother doesn't sound like too much fun_.

He smiled weakly, trying to infuse a bit of humor into the dark conversation. Was it for himself, to try and lessen some of the burden on his shoulders? I felt so bad about that.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, but I ignored it. Whoever was calling me, it couldn't be as important as what we were talking about.

"Thank you, Jasper," I said fervently, trying to let him know the magnitude behind my gratitude. Of course, my weak voice couldn't even begin to express it. "Thank you so, so much. And if there's anything I can do for you in these last few days, anything at all…please, it would be my pleasure. I owe you everything."

_There is something you can do, actually_, Jasper said, _could you please try and be less depressed? I won't ask you to be more happy - I know that's impossible - but your pain obviously becomes my pain, which in turn becomes Alice's pain, which becomes my pain again…it's a vicious cycle, and to tell you the truth, your emotions aren't having a positive effect on anyone else, either. Just try and focus on the fact that you'll be with Bella soon and stop feeling so tortured. It's all I ask._

_And, actually - could you please try and humor Rosalie about Renesmee a little more? She really is an engaging child, and she's so confused about what you are in her life. Whenever I hold her, she always puts your face into my head, asking where you are and who you are, how I'm related to you…you're a major part of her world, Edward. You're her father, and she misses you._

I didn't share my reasons for distancing myself from Renesmee, only smiled wanly and told him I would give it my best effort. In truth, it was…almost exhausting keeping myself so distant from her. My heart, whatever was left of it, wanted to become close to her.

And of course I couldn't deny Jasper anything now.

I slowly hugged him, trying to portray my feelings for him in that simple gesture. He understood, less from my awkward movements and more from my heavy emotions, and returned the hug.

Jasper disappeared inside and I pulled my phone from my pocket, glancing at the caller ID. I wasn't sure who would be calling me. All the members of my family were inside and didn't need to use the phone.

Shock coursed through me when I looked at the name.

1 MISSED CALL

BLACK, JACOB (HOME)

465-3457

Why was he calling me? There was only one reasonable explanation. He had come to a decision.

With inhuman and nearly in-vampire speed, I hit 8 on my speed dial and then SEND. After eighteen days of daily phone calls, it had gotten rather annoying to dial his whole number.

The phone rang twice and then Jacob picked up.

"Too busy and important to talk to me, bloodsucker? You don't feel that way every friggin' day when you call me." He was in a bad mood. I couldn't decide whether this was good for my case or bad.

"I'm very sorry, Jacob," I said politely. "I was in the middle of a very important, very serious conversation."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Please - what news do you have for me?" My voice was drawing closer to a beg again. The suspense was unbearable.

"Look. I'm not gonna kill you, Edward," Jacob said unceremoniously, his voice harsh. "I know I made a promise, but it was stupid. I was stupid when I made it. I wasn't thinking straight. I was angry. You of all people ought to know what anger does to you. But I don't think I should be held accountable for what I said then. You have plenty of other ways to die. Use one of them, and please don't call me again."

There was silence.

"And oh yeah - I don't know if you were thinking about this, though your fancy bloodsucker mind probably has, but no one else over here is interested either. Not even Paul or Leah or even Sam. Weird, eh? They both came over here to tell me so, just in case you called and asked about them. So please - leave the pack alone."

His voice was disgustingly cocky and antagonizing. I wondered if he was really feeling awful about what he had just done to me, and his board, brash façade was to hide that. I truly hoped so, because I _had_ held Jacob in a very high esteem, and this had just ruined it for me.

The phone disconnected, and I was suddenly so angry at him, at the world, that I smashed the phone down as hard as I could on the porch floor. It shattered of course, and there was a groan as some of the boards below splintered.

"_How could he?" _I bellowed in an ear-splitting, uncontrollable yell.

Carlisle was outside in a split second. It seemed even his perfect character let him listen in on what had just transpired.

"I'm sorry, Edward," he whispered. I couldn't answer.

Inside, Jasper collapsed into Alice's waiting arms.

**Much thanks to TheSingingGirl for the betaing. **

**And also, please don't call that number. I have no idea if it's a real number or not, only that the first three are real. I hate using 555.**


	16. Comforted

_I wish that I could use the real-life excuse, but I can't, not really. I was busy. From December - February, I had a debate tournament almost every weekend. But seeing as I haven't updated since October (?), there was loads of times I could have written, but didn't. So, please accept my humblest apologies, and let's carry on. Carlisle POV._

* * *

The atmosphere had, if possible, gotten more tense than it was before. Jasper avoided everyone except Alice, Rosalie and Emmett avoided each other, as they fell on different sides of the newly formed Jasper-Edward debacle. And, of course, everyone avoided Edward, and he avoided everyone.

Esme and Rosalie spent every possible second with Renesmee; I spent every possible second at work. Jasper and Alice hid out in their room most of the time.

And Edward was getting impatient, growing increasingly more agitated with every day that passed – four of them now, since that disastrous phone call.

I wished that I could speak with him as I once did, long ago, before Jasper and Alice and even Rosalie and Emmett had joined our family. We'd debate long into the night, both of us staunchly refusing to budge on our opinions, but with no real adversity between us. But as the house became more crowded, those days had disappeared. In time, it became Jasper who I had my long philosophical talks with, although those never stretched into the night as they had with Edward; Jasper couldn't stand not taking advantage of his few guaranteed alone hours with Alice.

I was glad Esme, at least, had a distraction in Renesmee. She _was_ lovely, in her both her thoughts and actions. The only interaction I'd had with young children had been checkups or wellness exams during my days as a family practitioner, and, of course, delivering newborns, but Renesmee was so different that there really was no comparison.

She was beautiful, but too much so, I thought: she reminded me of the immortal children who'd wreaked so much havoc in the vampire world just a few years after my creation.

Her intelligence posed problems, as well. At a little more than three weeks old, she was speaking perfectly and the size of an eight-month old baby. From a medical as well as a pragmatic standpoint, this was troubling. If we were to relocate, enroll in high school again – how would we explain Renesmee, who would age years in the span of a school year? I'd been too curious not to do the calculations. Renesmee would be older than I was in little more than three years.

No, this specious baby carried many more complications than one would think.

On the fifth day after Jacob's phone call, Tanya called. I answered the phone, as I'd been in my study, doing work brought home from the hospital.

"Hello?"

"Carlisle?"

"Tanya!"

"What is wrong?" Tanya immediately asked, concerned, easily interpreting the weary grief even I heard in my voice. "I was calling because of Bella – "

"What did you hear? Did Alice call you?" I demanded.

"Nothing, nothing! Why? Is something wrong? We wanted to offer you – or at least Edward and Bella - a temporary home here if you need to make a…quick relocation during these next few years. Is that what has you so upset? Has she already slipped up?"

"Tanya, I –"

"She is changed by now, isn't she? Edward mentioned at the wedding her birthday was her deadline…"

"Tanya…Bella's dead."

There were no words on the other end.

"_What?_" she finally hissed.

"She…" I hesitated. Did I share the news of Renesmee with our cousins? Telling too many people would not be wise – the Volturi would catch wind of it, surely, and no one in our family wanted them anywhere near dear Renesmee, even if we could see no threat from them.

Similarly, what if this was the last straw for them? They were large in number, and any one of them, especially bitter Irina or her sisters, may have felt obligated to share this abnormality with them. As a shrewd calculation to get their family into the Volturi's good graces again, or just out of a sense of loyalty -- there were many motives why the news may be shared.

But Tanya and her sisters were family – we trusted them implicitly. But what other choice did we have? What other logical explanation could I give for Bella's untimely death? And what was a bigger transgression – lying to Tanya, or being the indirect cause of Renesmee's death?

"Edward…" I took a deep breath, deciding on a course of action. "Edward killed her during their honeymoon."

Tanya's shaky voice answered after a few moments of silence, "He must be distraught."

"He is."

Then I knew that, whether or not I told them about Renesmee, they deserved to know about Edward's impending death. They needed the opportunity to say goodbye, if they wished it. Edward would probably despise me for it, inviting them like he was dying of some terminal illness, but it was the least I could do for them.

But then, of course, they'd learn about Renesmee.

I considered the lesser of two evils. Risk exposing Renesmee, or keep them in the dark about Edward and let him die with no chance for them to make things right and clear the air, if there was any ill will between them.

This time, there really was no choice.

Roughly changing tracks, I began again. "You know the stories of the incubus."

"Yes," she said, sounding curious. "And what does that-"

"Have you ever heard of a child being conceived by a male vampire and a female human?" I asked carefully.

"No, that couldn't happen," she said, and I could almost hear her shaking her head.

"Why not?"

"Why would a male vampire have sperm? It would be unnecessary, just like all our other bodily fluids."

She'd never had sex with a male vampire? I'd always assumed her fondness for human men stemmed from a fondness for men in general, and that humans were simply more easily accessible. Either way: "Tanya, vampires have sperm."

"Why are you even asking me this? What do incubi have to do with anything?"

I took a deep breath. "Because – and I know this doesn't sound possible _– Bella died in childbirth_. Edward had perfect control – that was a lie. She conceived the child on her honeymoon with Edward."

Wearily, she finally said, "_What?"_ like a fed-up girlfriend trying to get a straight answer out of her unfaithful lover. "You gave me a story, plausible though tragic, and then two seconds later you feed me some impossible crap about a vampire child? Carlisle, is Bella dead, or isn't she?"

"She is."

"Did Edward kill her?"

"_No," _I said fervently. "Although if you ask him, he'll certainly give you a different opinion on that."

"How did Bella die? Tell the truth. No more lies, now," she warned.

"She and Edward conceived a half-human, half-vampire child on their honeymoon. There were…complications, and she died during childbirth."

"And the baby?" Tanya questioned, and I was relieved she seemed to believe the impossible sounding story so easily.

"She is alive, and perfectly healthy. Bella asked she be named Renesmee – after her mother, Renee, and Esme," I offered in way of explanation for the odd name.

She was silent for so long I almost believed she'd hung up. I didn't even hear her breathe.

Irritated, she finally asked, "And when, exactly, where you planning on telling us about this? We'll leave right now and be down there by this time tomorrow."

The line disconnected. And for better or for worse, I've just led more people into the mess we've gotten ourselves into.

As promised, Carmen, Elezear, Tanya, Kate, and Irina arrive in twenty hours. I don't even what to think about how fast they've driven from Denali.

I meet them on the porch, and immediately Tanya folds me into a hug. "You look so sad, friend," she murmurs. "You look as though you've aged ten years."

She steps into the house, enveloping Esme, who's waiting just inside, into a heavy hug, murmuring comfort into her ear.

As usual, the family is scattered. Alice and Jasper are in their room together, but I'm not sure where Emmett and Rose are hiding out. Renesmee is with them.

Tanya suddenly gasped at something behind my shoulder that I cannot see; I spun around, guessing that Rose has come down the stairs, leading a toddling Renesmee by the hand, but instead it was Edward. I supposed that for someone who hasn't seen him gradually descend from the elated man she saw at his wedding to the agonized creature now before us, he would be shocking.

"Edward!" she whispered, and went to him, grabbing for his hand as he stumbled down the stairs like a drunk.

"Why did you come?" he asked quietly, cutting through the warm comfort Tanya exuberated. Accusation dripped from his voice and he looked past her to me, question in his eyes. I looked down uncomfortably. "If it's to convince--"

"I didn't come to convince you not to do this," Tanya snapped, before he could say more. "Although I think you're acting like a child. You have a family that loves you and a daughter that needs you." She saw him open his mouth to argue, but continued: "_No_, don't give me your crap about not understanding – I've lost more lovers than I can count. Some I've been with for just as long as you were with Bella. So I know what it's like, okay? You're pretending you're the hero of some fairytale version of Romeo and Juliet, but killing yourself won't give you a happy ending, Edward. All it will do is add more pain to those you're leaving behind." She punctuated her speech with a piercing glare.

There was dead silence.

"I thought you weren't here to change my mind," Edward said coldly.

"I'm not. I was going to say that although I think you're being an idiot, the reason I – we – came is to say goodbye to our cousin. And quite frankly, I'm wondering what would have happened if I waited even a day later to call you – would you already be dead? Were you going to kill yourself with no word to us? Even if you're getting away from the world in a few days, you're still here and you have responsibilities, not just to your family here, but to us."

For the first time in weeks, a spark of life came back into Edward's eyes.

"Tanya," he began coolly, "if you didn't have such a tendency to come butting into other people's business, looking at it only from your viewpoint, someone may have informed you of what was going on here. I think the real reason you came, no matter what you might protest, is to convince me – probably try and stop me – from doing this, because it would hurt _you_. You say that I have responsibilities to you, but what about those you have to me? Don't you have the obligation to give me up, if it's what's best for me? You don't understand the _hell _I've been living in, Tanya, no matter how many lovers you've lost. And how many of those have you even had? How many have you kept alive beyond a wild one night stand? To know that I was so close to keeping her alive, to keeping her with me for eternity – that's what kills me, almost more than anything else."

The room was absolutely quiet. Esme caught my eyes in quiet shock. Edward hadn't spoken that much, that _passionately_ for weeks.

Tanya's eyes soften, and she put her hand on Edward's shoulder. "But I _do_ understand that, Edward," she said, and then she was silent. I could only guess she was showing him a memory, and sure enough, Edward's brow furrowed and he leaned unconsciously towards her while he watched. She tried to remain stoic, but she bit her lip and stared at the floor – humanlike reactions not entirely gone from her.

"Esme," Carmen said softly, obviously trying to give Tanya some privacy while she relived that hard memory, "Where is Renesmee?"

Esme smiled, obviously glad to show off her grandchild.

"I believe she is with Rosalie," she said. "Come with me."

She led the group up the stairs, brushing past Edward and Tanya, still silently watching her memory together. As she passed, she touched Edward's hair comfortingly, but he made no acknowledgment. I followed behind them, bringing up the rear.

When we reached Rosalie and Emmett's room, I could hear Rosalie's voice from inside: "_The laurel-hedged walk which curved round the secret garden and ended at a gate which opened into a wood, in the park. She thought she would slip round this walk and look into the wood and see if there were any rabbits hopping—"_ Esme's knock cut off Rosalie's voice and after a "come in!" from Rosalie, she pushed open the door.

Irina and Kate gasped in unison.

Rosalie sat on Emmett's lap, reading to Renesmee. She sat with rapt attention on the bad, facing us, eyes bright.

"_How_ old did you say she was?" Elezear murmured to me, to quiet for a human to hear. It obviously caught him off guard when she answered his question.

"I'm twenty-three days today," she said proudly. "Who are you?"

Elezear laughed. Having lived with the Volturi, he had, like me, undoubtedly seen very strange things, even for vampires, and it had given him an open mind. "I am Elezear."

"And the rest of you?" she demanded, in that sweet, bossy way that children had.

"Renesmee," Esme said, "This is Kate, Irina, and Carmen. Tanya is downstairs, too. They are all very dear friends."

"Why are they here?"

"We came to see your father," Elezear answered, "But we also came to meet you. And you _are_ a delight to meet, Renesmee."

She beamed, and her smile was so irresistible Irina and Kate crept closer from where they had retreated behind me in the hall.

Suddenly she sobered. "Daddy is very sad," she noted.

"Yes he is, but maybe we can make him feel better," Eleazar comforted her.

"I hope so."

Eleazar and Carmen were delighted by Renesmee already, I could see. Kate and Irina were definitely more hesitant, probably because of their past and Renesmee's uncanny resemblance to immortal children.

Esme and I left the Denalis alone with Renesmee, Emmett and Rose.

We walked back downstairs, and as we passed the stairs leading up to the third floor, I heard Edward's voice drifting down. It seemed he and Tanya had taken their conversation up there alone, but from the unmuffled quality of the sound they had probably very pointedly left the door open.

The rest of the night was uneventful; the fascination with Renesmee carried long into the night, and it wasn't until much later that night after Esme and I had spent a surprisingly peaceful evening in my study alone that we finally went scouting up the stairs and found the whole family crowded around the sleeping Renesmee. It was a wonder she could sleep with all the eyes on her.

Tanya and Edward never came down the stairs that night, either, and their conversation drifted through the house long into the night.

* * *

_A few notes:_  
_*The book Rosalie is reading is The Secret Garden._  
_*I realize the last line may be a bit misleading. This is not a Tanya/Edward love story. Their relationship is and will remain being strictly friends. Edward is devastated by Bella's death and will not recover._  
_*Renesmee is remaining Renesmee and not Nessie on purpose, for two reasons: 1) That was Jacob's idea, and he's not in this story; 2)I thought it was a weird variation of Renesmee in the first place._  
_*This story is drawing to a close! In a rough estimate, there are four chapters plus an epilogue left, maybe less._

_Next update: I wish I could give you a definite time, but I can't. The one thing that I can almost guarantee is that it won't be this long again, because this was ridiculous. Thank you for reading (and sticking with me throughout the drought) and please let me know what you thought!_


	17. Calculating

_You are very lucky, my young readers (except most of you are probably older than I am). There were two chapters lined up for me to write before this one, but - alas! - I could not find my copy of New Moon, and sadly could not write them. So, you get this much earlier than planned. I think you'll like it. I certainly do. Things are certainly heating up! This is from Caius' point of view. *shock* *gasp*_

A knock came at the door. I broke away from Athenodora. "What is it?" I snapped, irritated at the interruption.

Georg, some lesser member of the guard, pushed open the door and slid into the room.

"Master, Aro calls council," he announced softly, eyes respectfully downcast.

I ignored him, turned to my wife. "Dora, stay," I whispered. "I'll be back soon." She agreed, of course.

It was the middle of the night. We had decided long ago that nights would be completely private, except of course for supreme emergencies.

I was not terribly irritated; Athenodora would be waiting and ready for me when I finished with Aro's meeting. As I left, I gestured Georg, and he left just as quietly as he'd come in my wake.

I reached the main chamber, lit just as brightly as it was in the middle of the day, to find Marcus – of course – sitting on his throne waiting. He rarely left it, calling for servants or guard members to bring him books or paper or simply slouching silently for hours or even days. He graced his personal rooms so infrequently that newer servants didn't even know where they were. After Didyme, he'd decreed that no one was ever to enter his bedroom again, and so it had lain deserted for a thousand years.

Aro perched on the second throne, Sulpicia standing behind him.

"Aro, what's this?" I asked. "Georg informed me you called council, not a mere meeting – although both of which I'm sure could wait for the morning."

"Don't anger so quickly! I was merely waiting for you to arrive, Caius!" He gestured to Sulpicia, and she quickly retired.

The chamber was now completely deserted, except for Renata standing unobtrusively in a corner. Aro's ridiculous order that she remain near him at all times meant that she often overheard words no one else was privy to. It gave her much power with very little holding her to Aro. If she wished, she could inflict much damage on us. It would be difficult, of course, what with Aro's mindreading – I knew he put it good use combing her thoughts every evening to ensure her loyalty – but I thought it was far too great a risk to take just to satisfy Aro's paranoia. It wasn't entirely unwarranted, I supposed – the thought had crossed my mind more than once that without Aro's silly yet shrewd ways and all of his ulterior motives, the coven would be better off.

Of course, it was thoughts like that that only secured his conviction that he needed Renata, but it was his insistence about Renata that led me to thoughts like that.

The problem was that with Renata, Aro put Marcus and me at a disadvantage by forcing us to trust him while he had a bodyguard to protect him from us. Although Marcus probably didn't care as much as I did - he rarely did anything anymore. Arranging a murder would make him far more involved that he wished to be.

What it boiled down to was that the ties binding us together were not so solid as others probably thought. My indifference towards Aro bordered on dislike, and I was sure he felt the same towards me. Marcus had long ago stopped having much weight in our trio, ever since Didyme – which I was sure Aro had planned on.

I knew that Aro would have done something equally as crippling to me as he'd done to Marcus – it would make him the virtual dictator of the vampire world with two leaders who simply didn't care anymore - but I had nothing that would scar me eternally and render me as lonely and impassive as my brother. The loss of Athenodora would be sad, perhaps even devastating to me, but only because of how long she'd been at my side, silent, obedient, and beautiful. Our relationship was not one tenth of what Marcus' had been.

If Aro had wanted to kill Athenodora, he would gain nothing from it but suspicion from the guard. He'd been able to pass off Didyme's death as an accident, but if he tried to pull that trick again, at least a few of the guard would draw their own conclusions, and their loyalty would begin to waver.

At least, that was what I had gambled on.

"So what is it?" I demanded finally, after a few seconds silence. We were gathered as he'd requested. Making us – or rather me, as Marcus would sit here in silence for a hundred years before he asked anything – ask him why he called his own meeting was just another of his silly tricks that I was starting to tire of.

" What's so important that you called council in the middle of the night?" I said again, after he waited another second or two.

"I have been thinking of the Cullens," he began calmly, ignoring my irritation.

I rolled my eyes, my temper firing up from simple frustration to real anger. "Yes, Aro, that is certainly urgent from where I stand, but as you do not agree with me and are determined to do things your own way, and insist on frittering away our time deliberating, it will soon cease to become urgent at all."

Aro merely calmly responded,"As I have told you many times before, acting in the way you advise will only create sparks that may land on hay and cause a fire. The vampire world accepts our rule only because we have provided fair and just judgment for two thousand years. The mindless slaughter of eight vampires – coincidentally the largest coven besides our own – will be a significant event that may not come out in our favor. To our friends, it may cause their loyalty to waver – which is dangerous but manageable, so long as no organized revolution comes of it. Far more dangerous is how it will appear to our enemies – as though we believe that the Cullens held a serious threat to our power. That may convince them to try something on their own, or – the most dangerous of all, they'll try and connect with others, both enemies and those who were once loyal alike. Killing the Cullens needlessly will cause nothing but trouble." He sounded as if he was explaining something very simple to a small child. I bristled.

"Killing them may be dangerous, but leaving them alone will almost certainly be more so!" I spat, remembering the angry Edward Cullen who'd come before us half a year before. He had been furious instead of grateful towards us for saving his human mate's life, a very generous act of mercy that still left me shivering with fury. He had viewed us as an enemy.

"Don't be so sure," Aro said, putting his hand over mine in what wasn't a gesture of comfort. I yanked my hand away, but of course it was too late.

After a moment, he continued, "Edward doesn't represent the whole coven, Caius. Carlisle is the leader, remember, and I am sure of Carlisle's allegiance, if only because he doesn't want a violent confrontation. They won't try to rebel against us on their own, even if they felt that was best, because they simply wouldn't be able to win, even with the extraordinary power their human will undoubtedly give them. Remember that they don't hold great weight in the world – they're viewed as odd, eccentric, and they're all very young – excepting Carlisle, of course. They'll have problems organizing anything, and because of that, if they try, we'll catch wind of it."

"They have no great love for us," I insisted.

Marcus interrupted us both. "No vampires do." He spoke so rarely that Aro and I both listened to him far more than we listened to each other.

"Marcus is right," Aro continued after a momentary pause. "The Cullens are dangerous only because they have such large numbers, not by their thoughts."

"Their numbers are great enough cause for worry," I insisted. "We wouldn't have to kill them needlessly. If their human was still alive, that would be reason enough. Even you couldn't insist that just the girl's life was forfeited – we gave them a chance, they made a vow, and we would be punishing their lie.

"Which is why we must leave _now_," I concluded trimuphanttly. They won't wait forever to change her, Aro! She was still alive when Jane visited them six months ago – she may still be alive now. However, she won't be alive forever – if we want a ready-made reason for exterminating them, we must act quickly."

Aro didn't answer. I glanced at his ancient face, and saw right away the reason he was hesitating.

"Damn it, Aro! Your obsession with Alice Cullen will be the death of the Volturi!"

"Think of what she could offer to us, Caius!" Aro breathed, staring at me with such intensity that I looked away. "If we could only convince her to join us, we truly would be invincible. And better yet, the Cullens would be split. You know her mate would never let her leave him – we could offer him a position as a servant, or possibly a member of the guard – he could be useful as a survivor of the Southern Wars. There would even be a chance that Edward or his human would decide to join us as well – both excellent additions. Think of all we could do, if only we convinced her!"

"She would be invaluable," I admitted, "but that is irrelevant. There is no way that she would join us, unless we had some leverage – took hostage her mate, for example."

"My violent friend," Aro said, "I'm sure there's a way we could voluntarily convince her – which is the reason that I called council."

"There _is_ no way! You've become obsessed – I am sure you have been thinking of little else since you first met her and saw what she could do. If there was a way without coercing her, you would have thought of it, Aro. We _must_ kill the Cullens. Alice and Edward – even his human – are collateral damage that is regrettable to lose but necessary. Better to secure our role for another thousand years than risk it over one vampire."

"But Caius – if we were able to secure Alice, our rule would be safe for who knew how many more millennia."

"And if we were to destroy every single vampire in the world except for ourselves, and blockaded ourselves into this room and forbade anyone to leave, our rule would be safe for quite literally forever. But that does not mean that is a move we should consider." I pointed out.

"Don't be tedious," Aro snapped impatiently. "The procuring of Alice is far simpler and realistic than that."

"Is it? Tell me more," I said sarcastically. I knew that he had no real plan, because he would have told me about it already if that was the case.

Aro smirked. "This is why I called the council, Caius. To think up a way to convince Alice to join us."

"That's hardly urgent," I pointed out. "If anything, she would be easier to convince five hundred years from now."

"Of course it's urgent," Aro said impatiently, "because, if morning breaks and we haven't thought up a solution, we will go forward and exterminate the Cullens while we still may have an easy excuse to do so. I will cast my vote the way you wish me to, and - assuming Marcus has no objections of course -" he glanced at Marcus, who didn't give any indication of whether he agreed or disagreed. This was typical, so Aro accepted it as a yes. "Then will we proceed with your plan.

I stared at him. He was willing to concede so easily – to give up the jewel he wanted so badly? There had to be something else. Perhaps he thought he could use this decision as leverage when some over matter came up that were equally pitted against each other about? Or perhaps his plan was to pretend to go along with our decision until we reached the Cullens, and then try and convince Alice with some idea he was sure he'd think up on the way. He might already have an idea that he didn't want to share it with me – because he knew I would disagree?

Maybe, and the most probable idea that he had was that he'd threaten to kill them all – unless she agreed to join the guard.

I touched his arm, and almost immediately he heard what I wanted him to. He glared at me. "Of course that's not what I was thinking." He was an excellent liar – one of the reasons he had been able to get away with Didyme's murder – but usually I could tell when he was, just because I'd known him for so long. One of the reasons I hadn't been fooled by the story he'd fed everyone else.

"I hope that you aren't lying, because – as I'm sure you've already realized but may have chose to disregard in your obsession – that would hardly seem just to the mob of almost-revolutionaries that you seem so convinced are just waiting for the slight tip of a scale to begin a full-fledged rebellion."

"Since your plan was not my intention, I hadn't thought of the consequences," Aro commented, but this time I knew he was lying, simply because it was an obvious solution and one of the first that came to mind when taking into regard what I wanted - killing the Cullens as soon as possible, and what he wanted - Alice.

"I will tell you of the consequences, then. If we told the Cullens they were to receive a death sentence unless one specific member joined the Volturi, one who – what a coincidence! – is extraordinarily gifted –"

"Ah,, but that happens all the time in the human world," Aro said patiently. "Is not a criminal allowed to go free in exchange for information? This is only slightly different."

"It would not settle well with other vampires who look to us for just and fair rule," I insisted.

"Then it is a good thing that your plan was never mine and it is only still of any importance because you insist we keep pointing out its flaws," Aro snapped coolly.

Since I was suitably cowed enough for him, he lapsed into silence. I did the same, deciding to humor him and pretend to think of ideas for the rest of the night if it meant getting what I wanted in the morning.

In the morning, much to my satisfaction and not to my surprise, Aro had not been able to think of a way to acquire Alice.

"Shall I call in the guard and inform them of our plan?" I said. "Who shall come?" I reveled in the picture of Edward Cullen and the others standing blind and deaf as we killed them, one by one.

I felt a slight twinge of regret at killing Carlisle – he had, after all, lived with us for several years. He reminded me of an eccentric, slightly mad cousin who you felt almost obligated to look after because they couldn't look out for themselves. Almost like Marcus – I'd felt oddly protective of Carlisle when he'd stayed here. But of course, he'd made his choice to stay with his coven, and to allow them to break the law. I knew, unlike Aro, that the law had no exceptions.

Before Aro could answer my triumphant question, Marcus broke in. "What will you do, Caius, if you find that the human girl has become a vampire? Will you make up a complaint against them just to satisfy your bloodthirsty hatred? You call Aro obsessed with Alice, but are you not just as obsessed with killing them? What fuels your hatred?"

I thought of Edward – shooting daggers with his eyes at us when he'd come. How empty he'd seemed, like Marcus – except Marcus had the strength to go on, to keep living even after a thousand years of torment. Chelsea's power was not so strong that he wouldn't be able to kill himself if he truly wished it. That made Edward weak, a character flaw I hated above all. How arrogant he'd been after he'd been reunited with his human!- another reason for my loathing. He seemed to forget that just because he tried to act like a human did not make him one. He lived worlds away from the way the humans did, and he had to answer to a whole different set of rules and guidelines – one that forbade him from falling in love with a human and then telling her what he was. Falling in love, or even getting to know one, was, quite frankly, irresponsible and weak-minded.

It was mostly that arrogant boy that set my temper flaring, but the whole coven was just too odd. Their choice to call themselves a "family", to drink the blood of animals when it so clearly went against the natural order of things – their oddness seemed almost dangerous, like a call to a higher moral standard that the rest of us should follow. Like a monastery of overbearing monks, with a holier-than-thou attitude.

"They're a threat," I finally said to Marcus. "They're large, and completely different from us – from the natural way things should be. They represent a danger, and that danger must be eliminated. And if the human has already been turned, we will simply say that we are following up on Jane's visit – when she hadn't been changed, although we had ordered she be immediately. Besides, if we scan the vicinity and make sure no other vampires are there, there's nothing stopping us from saying that she had still been a human."

"There's their liaison with the other coven, remember," Aro said. "We'll tell the truth, but hopefully it won't be necessary to fall on Caius' excuse."

Marcus sank back into impassivity.

"Renata!" I snapped, tired of the deliberation. "Fetch a servant to call the guard."

She nodded, and dropped her eyes, opening a side door to where the servants' quarters were. A second later, one of them went scurrying out of the hall.

"We will take Alec, of course," I said. "And Felix. Demetri must come, for when Alice sees our plan. They may try to run."

"Santiago, for another body to assist Felix," Aro put in. "I think that should be enough, when you consider us."

"Jane will be upset at being left behind," I said. "You know she has a vendetta against them because of that girl."

"Jane, too, then," Aro acquiesced easily.

The guard filed in, then, silently, and waited for us to begin speaking.

"We are to go on a mission," Aro said. "We are going to exterminate the Cullens. Felix, Demetri, Alec, Jane, and Santiago, you are to come with us. The rest will stay here. We will depart in two days' time."

* * *

_So...*taps foot impatiently*...That was different, wasn't it? Please review and let me know what you thought._

_And - just to let any of you who might be following Suicide as well - never fear, I have found my New Moon book and am halfway through a chapter as we speak._


	18. Torn

_Tanya POV_

Edward laughed.

Not a short, sarcastic laugh, or a bitter, biting one, but an actual, honest-to-goodness _laugh_.

I was proud to say it was on account of me.

To be fair, it wasn't _entirely_ because of me. It was because of Renesmee, but since I was the one who'd been forcing Edward to spend most of his time with her, I took credit for it.

I was appalled, quite frankly, that the others in his family hadn't been pressing Renesmee onto him every minute they could. Renesmee had a father; Edward had a daughter. Using his self-declared death as an excuse to keep them apart was as silly a reason as Bella's humanity keeping her and Edward away from each other.

I smiled smugly. "Edward, what's so funny?"

He'd recovered by then, of course. In fact, his whole body seemed to deflate, as if he'd suddenly remembered why he had been so sad in the first place, why he had barely even cracked a smile in weeks.

"Nothing," he said darkly. "It was nothing."

He frowned, and turned away, but I saw the desolation in his eyes again. The desolation that had, inch by inch, been slowly dissipating during the last forty-eight hours. Every smile, every touch that he and Renesmee shared had acted like a torch, brandishing its way through the darkness of his agony and lighting him up again.

It had been miraculous, really, to watch.

And here he was, talking on his cell phone to Renesmee as she called him from the home phone downstairs – she found the telephone a wonderful invention, almost as wonderful as food.

Renesmee babbled on into Edward's phone, but he seemed to have stopped listening. When she paused to take a breath, he cut her off. "Renesmee, darling?" he said. "Can you finish telling me later? I need to go."

"Go where?" she demanded.

"Go…well, I need to talk to Aunt Tanya for a moment, all right?"

"Okay, daddy!" Renesmee chirruped, and hung up the phone.

Very slowly, Edward closed the phone. He closed his hand around it, and I saw his muscles flex.

"Edward," I chastised gently, taking his hand and uncurling his fingers before he could break it. I took the phone out of it and set it on the table beside me.

He put his head in his hands and was still.

The silence stretched on, not even broken by movement or breathing. It was easy to figure out what Edward was feeling – guilt that he was alive and still able to laugh, and Bella was not. Guilt that he could laugh so easily and so soon after her death – did she mean nothing to him, that he could get on with his life so quickly?

"It's okay to be happy, Edward," I said finally, putting my hand on his arm.

He didn't move.

"I'm going to sound like a self-help book, I know, but Bella wouldn't want you to **castigate** yourself, Edward. You know that. She'd wonder how you could even consider leaving Renesmee when she obviously loves you so dearly."

He didn't move his hands away from his face, but his voice hissed out, low and terse. "Yes, well, I'm not Bella, am I? I'm not like her at all. She was the most selfless, beautiful woman, and what am I? A selfish monster."

"Selfish for what? For wanting to be happy?"

"Yes!" Edward said, exasperated, and he raised his tortured eyes to mine. "I wanted to change Bella. I convinced myself I was strong enough to do it, because it was what _I_ wanted. I wanted her by my side forever, and it got her killed. The same thing is happening with Renesmee. I want to be with her, but look at me! I'm a mess. She doesn't need a ruined man in her life. I want to die. I do. But every minute I spend with my _daughter_, it's getting harder to convince myself of that."

"What do you mean, Renesmee doesn't need you in her life?" I whispered, shocked. "You're her _father_, Edward. Of course she needs you."

"Yes," Edward agreed. "She needs a father. I'm no more a father to her than you are, Tanya. I shouldn't be around her. She's too perfect and beautiful for me."

"Edward," I said, determined to talk some sense into him, "Do you realize you were saying the exact same things when you first met Bella? And look how that turned out-"

"Yes, it turned out wonderful, didn't it?" Edward cut in sarcastically. "I killed her. It was such a good decision to let her to stoop down to me!"

I wanted to throw my hands up in disgust. When Edward got like this, he was almost impossible to talk to. He held himself in such low esteem that, when added to a depression like the one he was in now, turned him into an almost unrecognizable man full of scathing remarks about himself and little else.

"Stop it," I snapped. "Stop degrading yourself. That gets really annoying after a while, Edward. What turned out was a beautiful relationship between two people made for each other. What turned out was the makings of a long and blissfully happy life that was only cut short by a tragic mistake."

"One that was caused by _me_," Edward spat bitterly. "You can mask it behind words like _mistake_ and _accident_, but I can't hide from the fact that _I _killed her. My hands. My choice."

"Good God, Edward, when will you stop _harping_ on about that?" Normally, I didn't take the Lord's name in vain - mostly out of fear for offending Carlisle or others - but since Edward wasn't exactly religious himself, I knew he wouldn' mind.

"Yes, Edward, you killed her. It was your hands that did it. Yours and no one else's. But honestly, does that really matter so much? If Bella had died in some other way, you would be in the same position you are now. If she had simply died because you were unable to save her from the hardship of her childbirth, you would be berating yourself too. Since you would be guilt-ridden by what you had or hadn't done any way she died, it's really irrelevant that you crushed her heart by doing one too many compressions of CPR."

He didn't answer, probably because he knew I was right.

It was then that I heard little steps pattering up the stairs, with heavier steps coming behind them. Renesmee and Emmett?

The steps danced down the hallway toward Edward's room, and I could almost hear her little legs straining to elevate herself to reach the doorknob.

"No, Renesmee," Emmett said – I was right. "Remember to knock. Always knock."

"Sorry, Uncle Emmett!" she said. A second later, a quiet knock came on the door.

Edward looked terrified – terrified, because of a little girl!

"Go on," I mouthed to him, and shook his head to clear it.

"Who is it?" he called, playing along.

"Renesmee!" Renesmee giggled.

"Come in, Renesmee!"

The doorknob jiggled, but then it opened surely a second later as Emmett helped her to open it. She toddled in, and then vaulted across the floor toward Edward. She climbed laboriously into his lap.

She put one hand on Edward's face, and Edward smiled. "What did Aunt Carmen show you?"

She put her other hand on the other side of his face and pulled it down to her level. Then she fluttered her eyelashes across his cheek.

"It's a butterfly kiss!" she announced. I'm sure she would have simply told Edward through her peculiar method, but obviously she wanted everyone else in the room to know as well.

I laughed, delighted at the enchanting girl.

"We finished The Secret Garden, Edward," Emmett told him from across the room. "And I think Renesmee had something she wanted to ask you."

Renesmee nodded enthusiastically and touched her hand once more to Edward's face.

"Of course I will, Rensesmee," Edward told her seriously in answer to the unspoken question. "What book did you want?"

"She wants Edward to read her another book," Emmett whispered to me in explanation.

"Well, Uncle Emmett said that I might like Anne of Green Gables," the little girl said, glancing back across the room.

"He's right," Edward told her. "It's about an orphan - very much like you - who is adopted by a woman and her brother. You'd love it."

A split second after he said the words, he realized what he'd unintentionally implied and his happiness dissolved once again, leaving his face stark and severe.

Renesmee continued on, oblivious to her father's pain and interpreting what Edward said the way he'd probably meant it, "But Aunt Alice told me that I'd like a different book even better. She said it was called Inkheart. Have you read that one?"

"I haven't," Edward said. "But if Aunt Alice said you'd like it, you'd better listen to her. She's usually quite right in her predictions."

Renesmee giggled.

"I've read it," I volunteered. I had read it in the original German as a way of brushing up on that particular language – after learning a solid dozen more while virtually ignoring the dialect, I'd read a children's book just to get myself used to the tone and sense of it.

"And did you like it?" Renesmee asked from Edward's lap.

"I did. Alice was right; I think you'd love it."

Pleased, she asked Edward another silent question.

"Alice told you we could go to the library right now and check it out?" Edward laughed. "Well, let's do it then. Why don't you go get ready to go? I need to speak to your Aunt Tanya for a moment longer, okay?"

Renesmee acquiesced easily and jumped off Edward's lap, running with perfect balance to the door, grabbing Emmett's hand on the way.

The second the door was closed, Edward turned to me. "How can I leave her?" he asked, anguished. "And yet, how can I stay without _her_?" I didn't need to ask who the second _her_ was.

"Well, I can't answer that, Edward," I said softly. "No one can." I carefully focused my mind only on his face, on his pain, and away from what I wanted to tell him.

"Don't give me that, Tanya," he snapped. "I know you're bursting with an opinion you're going to force on me sooner or later."

I took a deep breath. I knew I might have just once chance to convince Edward to stay; I'd been perfecting this speech for a few days now.

_Then you must know what I'm going to say! I think you should stay alive, Edward. If you need to hear me say it, I'll tell you again and again, as many times as it takes to convince you. I love you. You're my family. I hate to see you suffer, but I'd hate even more to lose you. And what you have with Renesmee is so special – she adores you. It will be hard to get on with your life after Bella, Edward. No one's denying that, but look at your web of support! Six family members, a daughter, and us – your extended family who will be here as long as you need us to be. Edward, I believe that if you just let yourself heal, you can. Please._

Edward's death seemed like such an odd thing to me! And here we were, calmly discussing it as if it were no more than an extended vacation or a job opportunity. I could barely come to terms with it any more than that. His presence in my life was so much more than just the casual ties most vampires acquired. Edward was a man who'd denied my many advances; because of that, I appreciated his intelligence and wit much more than I probably would have if at any point he'd been my lover. I had been his place of solace when he'd needed to escape Forks for a few days when Bella had first come. If I had a secret I couldn't tell my sisters, Edward would be the one I turned to. In short, he was one of my best friends and I wanted it to remain that way.

Edward didn't answer, pressing his palms into his eyes and not saying anything for two long minutes. Finally: "I have to go," he said unnecessarily, standing up abruptly. "She's waiting for me."

I didn't want to know who he was talking about.


End file.
